#i should not be awake. pretend i'm not awake.

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#7. GOOD FUCKING BYE!

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe (duh)/ kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Grinding/ Dry Humping/Cuming in Pants/ Oral (M.Receiving)/ Fingering/ Public sex (kind of)/ Word 'slut' and 'whore'/ Angst toward the end/ INFIDELITY

Word count- 16k (I'm not sorry anymore.)

a/n- So, this on took so long. But I hope it's worth the wait. I worked so hard on this one genuinely hope you'll enjoy. Thakyou so much for reading.

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Chapter Index

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Cold beams of sunlight are seeping through the beige curtains of the cottage room. Creating dappled patterns on the wooden floor. Your cheek is pressed against Jimin’s chest. Eyes wearily staring at his laptop screen. This is a very stupid idea. Agreeing to stay awake another day. Especially, when you’re drunk. At this moment, you want nothing but to sleep the exhaustion away. You’ve drunk enough water to sober up. Since neither of you were hungry, decided you’ll wait till the morning. A good shower refreshed you. Yet you and Jimin are still slightly drunk.

When he asked you to stay. Asked you to pretend that this is normal and keep being insane. You’ve thought he was going to continue. Continue from where he stopped. Make you cum again and again. But the moment he just dragged you inside your room, he had insisted you to take a shower. Then he did the same. From that very moment this is what you’ve been doing. Watching some interesting and intriguing drama. But no matter how intriguing the drama is, you’re a little bit disappointed. No, you’re deeply disappointed.

Why? Why isn’t he doing anything?

True, he is holding you close. You’re entangled with each other. His hand is curled around your figure. Drawing mindless patterns in your forearm occasionally. Still, that is it. It’s quite weird to be honest. Everything is weird anyway. You should feel guilty. And you do. But the sensation of his warm body and the beating of his heart make that guilt wash away. There’s an elephant in the room. Too large to be ignored. Funny how you both keep ignoring it. You convince yourself that it’s okay. You agreed to pretend this is normal for a day anyway. The thing is, however, that you thought that normal would be fucking each other’s mind out. You hoped you two would be satiated and no longer will be drooling at each other. As much as how wrong it still is, you thought it would at least put an end to the mess.

Then, here you are. Oddly wrapped in one another’s embrace. How strange.

You jump when Jimin takes away his hand from your forearm and places it in your cheek. Even after being this way for few hours, his hands are still a little bit cold. He rubs your cheek affectionately.

“You’re not sleepy, are you?” Mumbles into your hair. You shake your head without raising it. “Are you too tired? Do you wanna sleep? We can sleep if you want to. You don’t have to stay awake if it’s too hard.” Asks again. Worry etched in his voice. Makes you snort. Your heart is swelling, nonetheless. Throughout your time watching this, you really didn’t watch the drama. You more of talked and talked about many things. So, you were not sleepy. That and the uncontrollable beating of your heart. Your body and mind were restless. Now, though, your heart is calming down. Your body is starting to relax.

“I’m fine Park.” You mutter into his cozy hoodie. Lazily. Stifling a yawn. Making Jimin’s chest rumble as he chuckles at that. He pauses the drama playing on the screen. You let out a noise of protest. Not that you really want to watch it, but the protagonist is about to uncover the truth. Jimin doesn’t give a fuck about it, however. Closes the device and puts it aside. Fumbles around, making you sit up straight. He follows, leaning against the headrest. You whine. There’s no ounce of strength left in you. You don’t even want to lift a finger. But then, he slips his hand under your thigh, pulls it over his lap. Manhandling you to straddle his lap. Suddenly, you’re not tired anymore. Your droopy eyes are all wide now. Heart is back to thumping madly, making your breath hitch. You gasp.

“Jimin.” Mumble as he settles you comfortably on his lap. Knees pressing onto the mattress from either side of him. You didn’t really bring any clothes. Everything you packed was Liya’s. Hence, you’re wearing Jimin’s clothes. Yet again. Sweats and a T-shirt. Cozy. Smells like him. Drive you insane. You’re a fucking pervert after all.

Jimin hums in answer as he nuzzles his nose against yours. Wraps his arms around your waist and brings you impossibly closer. Flushed against him. Places his chin on your shoulder.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Asks the same thing for the millionth time now. This time in your ear. Voice low. Doesn’t wait for your answer when he starts to press his lips onto your neck. It’s okay to let him know it feels good now. So, you moan. A breathless one. Pathetic. A single touch is enough to get your head spinning. You’re certain he knows that. Of course, he does. Knows exactly what he is doing when his kisses turn into little sucks and nibbles on your skin. Focusing on the spot that gets your toes curling.

Finally!

“Are you sure baby?” He starts rubbing your back, all the while keeping his lips on you. You whimper. Your own hands clinging on to him for your dear life. One on his shoulders and the other on the back of his neck.

“I’m okay Jimin…” You want to say more but he is making you rock your hips now. His hands slipping inside your T-shirt. Touching your bare back. His touches feel so good. Better when he drags his hands to your front. Starting to fondle with your breasts. Nipples are already hard and aching. He massages them softly, with both of his hands, occasionally circling the nipples with his thumbs. You pull away from his body a little bit. Only enough to face him and find his lips on yours. Feel a little bold now. Are eagerly rocking your hips, dragging your clothed cunt over his hardening length. Can feel it hardening against you. How good that feeling is. Jimin kisses you back eagerly. Instantly sneaking his tongue inside and lapping against yours. Turning the kiss into messy and sloppy. Heated. Working against you seamlessly.

You hate the layers of clothing you have. Want to feel everything. To think about it, you’ve came every time; he never has. He has seen everything of you. You haven’t. You think that’s beyond being unfair. You pull away, tugging at his hoodie.

“Take it off, please. Wanna see you.” Plead against his mouth. Jimin let’s out a dark chuckle.

“Gosh, I love how you’re so whiny when you’re turned on baby.” His voice is so dark and teasing. Gives you goosebumps all over your skin. It’s fine if he loves it since you love how he gets you so pliant with a single touch. Jimin complies with your plead. Pulls his hoodie over his head in one swift motion. You’ve seen him shirtless before. Yet, the moment his bare chest and abs are revealed, your breath catches in your throat again. Forcing you to press your already soaked pussy hard on his shaft. You both moan at that. Jimin chuckles through his moan. Throws the piece of clothing away, eyes watching you. Amused. Glinting. Your eyes roam over his honey skin. Have no idea what you should do first. He makes the decision for you. Grabs your wrist.

“Touch me baby.” Presses your hand, palm flat against his chest. You’re thrilled to see his breath hitches and muscles tighten under your touch. He drags your palm down, through the expanses of his chest, making you feel every inch of his skin. Toward his defined abs. Makes you touch him properly. Drags your palm down and down, forcing you to adjust your hips to make room. And then he is pressing your palm on his hardened member. Through his sweats but still you can clearly feel the way he twitched, when your hand grazed over. A strangled grunt escapes his throat as he bucks his hips into your hands. And you lose your mind. Literally. Lose it again when he makes your hand rubs over his pulsing dick.

“Feel it baby?” Jimin mutters, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. You nod, taking matters into your hand and start palming his length. Squeezing. Tracing your fingers over. Trying to figure out how big he is by just touching. Taking in the outline of his bulge. Jimin lets you do whatever you want. Just leans against the headrest and watches the way you massage his cock. Play with his cock. Biting back moans and grunts. Until his patience snaps. Making you disappointed when he swats your hand away. You grumble, which turns into a moan as he drags your clothed pussy to replace your hands on his member.

“That’s so mean. You slapped my hand.” You manage to say, pouting. He kisses that pout away.

“Sorry, but I would’ve cum if you kept doing that.” He chuckles breathlessly. Softly pecking your lips in between and making you roll your hips again. You suck in a breath at his words. Stifling a moan.

“Should’ve done that then.”

“Yeah? That would be so fucking embarrassing.” He pulls you in for another kiss. Your hips continue rolling over his.

“No…. That would be so fucking hot. B... besides... it’s n-not fair, you made me cum in my pants.” You’re losing your patience as well. Are getting needy. You want more now. The friction your sodden panties are creating against your folds are not enough. That’s why you try to press even harder each time you drag your hips back and forth.

“Fuck, Lil!” Jimin is helping you the best way he can. Controlling your movements and pressing you down hard. “So, w-what? You want me to cum in pants a-as a revenge?” Asks. Oh, you love how he is stuttering a little bit. Breathless. That’s not what you want, however. Still, when he says that with dark eyes and heavy lids, it looks like a good idea. Makes you aroused even more, if it’s possible.

“N-no, I want it b-because it’s hot.” You don’t realize you’ve picked up your speed. Both of you are breathless messes now. Humping each other like horny rabbits. Jimin laughs and then nods. Agreeing with you.

“Go on then baby. Make me cum.” Starts kissing you again like his lifeline is you. His plump lips land everywhere he can reach. Your lips. Neck. Jaw. Throat. Ears. And you reward him by keep grinding. Until you can’t take it anymore. Until your desire is uncontrollable. You start whining in his ear. Begging him to take your clothes off. Jimin instantly relents. Your top goes first, then your pants. But when you try to do the same thing with your panties, he stops you.

“Keep it.” He drags you back onto his lap. You hum in confusion when he guides you back into your rhythm. He hasn’t taken off his sweats either. Humiliating since you’re the only one who got bared into your ruined panties. He doesn’t answer you. Gives you a menace look instead. You like it. Like it a little too much since you’re into whining and pleading within no time.

“Take your sweats off Jimin.” You pull your best puppy eyes. His self-control is maddening, you hate it. He doesn’t relent this time. Asks something about you wanting him to cum in his pants. You regret saying it ever. “Oh, c’mon… please. Keep your boxers. It’s the same thing.” So, you bargain.

“Yeah? You’re that desperate?” He mocks. You nod. Pathetic.

“Ask for it nicely baby. Beg.” Says again while slightly touching your clit. It’s terrifying how he makes you do whatever he wants. Freaking terrifying how you do as he says without a single thought. Where’s your pride? See, these are the consequences of refraining from satisfying your primal needs. You’re now thinking with your cunt. Only focused on chasing that breathtaking high. So, you beg again and again when he ask you to do so. Like a good little slut. That little voice inside you, which reminds you that what you’re doing is wrong is no longer there. You’ve surrendered to sin completely.

“That’s a good girl. Let me baby.” He finally listens to you. You raise your hip, allowing him to push his sweats down his thighs. Not completely, just enough to reveal his boxers because you’re so impatient. You don’t let him take it off completely as you place your cunt over his boxers in light speed. He gasps at that. “Woah... fuck. Fuck, you’re so greedy.” Says in a shaky voice. Whimpers when you start grinding again. This feels better. Better when you can finally feel his dick part your folds. Even with your panties and his boxers it feels heavenly. You can feel him twitching beneath you. Can feel the warmth against your soaked cunt. But then like he said you’re so greedy. You always want more. That’s how you are back to begging. Asking for more.

“Jesus Lil. Thought you want to make me cum in my pants.” Jimin grunts, pushing his hips upward. Aiding you with your relentless humping. He is impressive. Really impressive to have such a self-control. Get you bit worried about your abilities when he hasn’t already fucked you in hundred different positions. Make you insecure. That’s not the case though. You know he is affected. Very much so. His face is flushed, pupils dilated, eyes still very hooded. Breathing is ragged. Panting heavily and can’t stop entangling his lips with yours for a second. His fingers are digging into your thighs so harshly that they’ll definitely leave marks. On top of everything, he is rock hard beneath you. Dick throbbing but still he has his control.

“Please hm? Jimin please…” You try again. He swears. Accidentally bite your lip harsh, the steady rhythm stumbling. See, he is a goner. Yet doesn’t play it in your way. For much of your dismay.  You are about to complain and call him a mean gremlin when he suddenly hooks a finger inside your panties. Steals your breath away that you’re certain you’re dead when he harshly pushes it aside. Your wet folds directly contact with the cotton material of his boxers. You both moan in content. The friction is harsh on your sensitive clit, but you can’t complain. Being so close to the edge. Every pleasurable drag over his throbbing bulge taking you toward your edge.

You watch in awe, as Jimin’s lower abdomen tenses. At the dark wet spot you’re forming on his underwear, together with him. He is watching too. Taking in how you madly rub your pussy on his hardness. The way you’re moaning and whimpering. The way your breasts bounce. Keeps his finger hooked inside your panties to hold it away from your way.

“I’m ruining your boxers. It’s so messy.” You mumble against his lips in a quiet whimper. He groans.

“Fuck baby… It’s better when it’s messy. I love seeing you lose control, Lil. Keep making a mess baby hm? God, I need you to keep making a fucking mess for me.” He replies breathlessly. Kisses you one time more before dipping down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Sucks harsh and that is the last stroke for you. His name leaves your mouth over and over again as your grip on him tightens. Your thighs shaking. Closing your eyes tight as the intense pleasure explodes over you. Your orgasm hits hard. Jimin moans with you, popping your nipple from his mouth to peer at your pleasure wrecked, fucked up face. Kisses you madly.

“Lil… baby, don’t stop, keep going. I’m so fucking close. Keep going for me, don’t slow down.”

Oh, he is finally losing control. Not the way you are but you’ll take it. His words make you aroused all over again despite the hard orgasm that washed over you just now. The pleasure still lingers but it’s becoming overwhelming. Yet you’re not going to stop. Of course, you’re not. How could you when Park Jimin looks like he is floating on cloud nine. When he’s letting out breathless moans. All because of you. You’re unable to stop. So, you keep going and it doesn’t take much either. He follows you quite closely, hips jerking upward and faltering. Steady you on his lap. Presses his dick hard on your sensitive cunt. Grits his teeth.

“Fuck. Fuck Lil. Goddamn it, just like that. Shit, yes.” Curses as he lets go of your panties, making you slowly rock your hips again. Using you to ride through his high. The wet spot on his boxers expanding with his cum. Oh, how hot that is. Makes you moan again. He chuckles at that, finally stops rocking you on him. Your cunt is still on fire, and you love the wet feeling. His breathless chuckle, however, makes you embarrassed. So, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Turning his chuckle into a quite laughter. Jimin wraps his hands around your half naked figure, bringing you impossibly close to him again. Rubbing your back gently.

“Was it hot?” Asks softly, voice still breathless and trying to calm down. You nod into his neck. “So fucking hot, Park.” Assure him through your shaky breath. He laughs again. Making you both shake.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen but…”

“But...?”

“It would’ve been better to see you, you know. Like see you, see you.” You hide your face in his neck even more. You’re still high from your orgasm that you’re rambling. Embarrassing, nonetheless. To say something like that aloud. You think he might mock you. For being extremely needy. He doesn’t. Instead, squeezes you in his hold, peppering kisses on your naked shoulder.

“Fucking hell, Spring Roll. You’re so damn hot. Did I say that before? Christ, you drive me wild.” He pulls you from your shoulders, demanding you to look at him. Not quite away from him, still keeps your mouth grazing over his. It’s your time to laugh. Roll your eyes, dismissing his compliment despite the butterflies on your stomach. Dangerous. “I’m serious. Love it when you’re needy. And I really, really want to do as you say now, but knowing Taehyung…. I’ll give you five more minutes before he barge in here.” He smirks. Molds the flesh in your ass cheeks. Slaps them slightly. Your breath is hitching again.

 “So, unless you want him to see you like this- I mean if you do, we can con─” You interrupt him by hitting his chest. Causing him to grin again. Already moving away from his lap. “No thanks please.” You mutter as you reach for your discarded T-shirt. Jimin watches you for a minute before suddenly grabbing from your ankle. You stop fumbling with the piece of clothing, turning around. Surprised. The position is awkward as he yanks you to him by your leg. Bends down slightly and his hand is reaching between your thighs. For a moment, you expect him to touch your pussy again when he grazes his fingers inside your inner thigh.

“What?” You question, confused.

“You never told me how you got this.” He shifts his gaze from your thigh to your face. That’s when you notice he is touching your scar. The scar that proved to him you’re not Liya that fated day. The sudden memory of it and Liya makes you awfully uncomfortable. Your excitingly beating heart sinks. And you don’t want to act like it’s okay to get to know each other. This, the thing you’re doing. It’s just for a day. After this day, you need to stop this and do the right thing. That’s the plan and it doesn't include anything about getting close in this kind of way. Jimin curiously inspects your face for a moment. Then probably sensing that you’re not comfortable retrieves his hand fast. A pang hits your chest. Before your brain can process what’s happening, you grab from his hand. Not letting him pull away. Smile softy at him when you answer.

“I got it while riding a seesaw. Uh… it was already broken but I rode it anyway and it cut my thigh. Stupid me.” You watch the way he watches you. That warmth in his eyes are no longer there. Smile wiped off.

Oh, fuck.

See, now, no matter how heavy it feels to remember that what you’re doing is wrong. No matter how messed up this is. You still don’t want to ruin the day. The day hasn’t even started yet. You agreed to have a day. Agreed to pretend it’s normal. And you want that, want this day to be perfect without any heavy feelings. You sigh heavily. Pulls his hand to place it where it was, on your thigh. Leans forward and catch his lips with yours. Catching him off guard. Kisses him tenderly. You’ll have day. Everything’s going to be fine after.

“Any more questions Park?” Grin into his lips. He leaves a sigh as well. You don’t know what’s going on in his head but, are glad when he grins back. Is about to ask something certainly, when a loud thud on your door makes you both wince.

“Rise and shine babies… Stop fucking and get the fuck Out...” Taehyung’s voice echoes through the wooden barrier. Followed by another knock and low curses. “Fuck my head hurts.”

You and Jimin snort at the same time.

……………………………………

Jimin glances at you from the corner of his eyes while adding radish to the simmering broth. A grin spreads across his face to see your focus on what he is doing. Legs dangling over the counter. You sway them back and forth, toes curled inside your socks. Mouth agape as you peer over at the pot. Oh, how adorable you are. And are very distracting that he can’t help but to reach you and smooch your lips now and then. Squeeze your cheeks and laugh when you click your tongue in annoyance.

“Stay focus Park.” You mutter irritably. Yet throw your hands around his neck when he stands between your legs. He knows this is not normal. Knows it’s very wrong. Knows why you suddenly looked uneasy earlier. Still, he can’t help it. He deserves a day, doesn’t he? It’s all for a day. So, he nuzzles your nose with his. “You’re too fucking distractive, Spring Roll.” Passes the blame to you. You gasp, pushing him away. Ignore his protests when you slide out of the counter.

“No. No. Don’t leave.” Jimin catches you in his grasp before you can move away though. Your contagious laughter fills the room. He never knew that just fooling around with someone can be this rewarding. How relaxed he feels right now. How content he feels to see you giggle. Especially, when he starts to tickle your sides. You thrash in hold for moment before saying you won’t leave. Admitting defeat. He slowly loosens his grip, ready to catch you if you try to run. You don’t. Snort at his skepticism but still sit back on a stool. Trying to regain your composure. He likes it better if you can sit back where you were before. But he’ll have to be happy with this. Now it’s less distracting since you’re sitting behind him. 

It's your idea to make hangover soup. It’s a given that all his friends or enemies in that case, are going to feel killer hangovers, after last night’s heavy drinking. Jimin himself is having a headache but it’s bearable. Bearable after you really made him cum in his pants. Bearable when he can hear those pretty giggles of yours. Still, you and he’ll need ways to sober up other than sleeping. There’s a day to pass after all. He could have easily made the soup for just you two, but he is feeling a little bit generous. Hence, this commotion in the kitchen. You and he are the only people who are awake despite Taehyung. Who currently is in a bathroom, throwing his guts out. Serves right for interrupting you earlier.

It takes him no more than another fifteen minutes to get the soup done. Takes the hot stockpot into the kitchen island. Feeling giddy at the sight of you excited. It’s still you two. Jimin has a strong suspicion that Taehyung went back to sleep. Maybe, he decided to spend the rest of his life inside a bathroom. Whatever that is, Jimin is happy it’s just you and him.

You hum in delight at the first taste, head whipping toward him. Eyes adorably wide. Beautifully glinting. The starry fucking night. With secrets. He doesn’t know why he wants to unravel them. Just like he wanted to know how you got that scar.

“Is it good?” Asks instead. You nod furiously. “You’re a God damn good cook Park. Jesus, marry me please.” You say noncommittally as you go back to enjoy your soup. Jimin is gaping at you, however. Knows it’s a joke but here comes those unsettling feelings. Has to shake his head visibly to shake them off, glad you don’t notice. Too immerse in your food.  You hum again and then moan. Look back at him with appreciation, when he forces himself to smile.

“I’m good at everything.” says with a shrug. Is trying to lift the heaviness in his own heart. You scoff.

“I really want to disagree─” You gulp down a spoonful of stock before continuing. In a clueless and happy mood. “But...” Smiles at him. “Maybe you are. I mean you own a fucking business. A CEO. Can cook.” Put down your fingers as to state. Gasp. “Even sing. Can you dance too? Don’t tell me you can. That make me feel so useless and talentless.” Mutter that when Jimin snorts. That unsettling feeling leaves his chest. He is about to say that he is very sorry to tell you that he loves dancing when you don’t let him.

“But seriously Park, how did you do that? I mean the business. I need motivation to finish my degree. Tell me how you did that, the inspirational TED talk.” You shift in your stool, adjusting yourself to face him properly. Jimin hates this. Not that he doesn’t want to tell you. Of course, not. The thing is he can’t tell his story without mentioning one person. He doesn’t want to think about his girlfriend right now. Not when he is cheating on her. Not when he is so fucking selfish not to care what might be happening to her at this moment. On top of all, he doesn’t want you two to be in a sour mood. He likes this. All these moments with you. Loves it and doesn’t want to ruin it. What a selfish prick he is.

Just one day. Just one.

He smiles, trying to act normally. “Ah that’s nothing. I’m not doing it alone, you know? I have those three with me. And what’s TED talk?” Shrugs your request off. You’re not to let it go that easily though. Stubborn. Annoying. Cute. Pretty. Steals his breath when you lean toward his face.

“Oh, c’mon Park. Don’t be like that. We both know you’re not someone to be humble. You’ve a very arrogant ass. This is your chance to brag. So, take it Mister.” You blow breath to his face. Fucking tease. He wants to kiss you again, but you pull away fast. Attention back on your food. “Besides, you have a fancy ass apartment, a freaking expensive car and you guys come to places like this for your vacations. Don’t tell me it’s nothing.” Add that.

Yes, everything you say is true. Only he doesn’t want to say that his apartment is not just his. Liya’s name is on the contract. No, he won’t say her name aloud. He needs to distract you. Needs a distraction for himself as well. Good thing he knows exactly how to do that. You let out a surprised gasp when Jimin reaches for your cheeks. Cups them and squeezes. Making your lips pucker. He ignores your whines of complaint as he places a kiss on your lip. “I don’t have an arrogant ass lady.” Mumbles. Keeps pecking your lips yet stops squeezing your cheeks. Just like he knew, you’re getting distracted. Start kissing him without any reluctance. Well, now Jimin is no longer trying to distract you. Instead, he is the one who is getting distracted. There’s something about you that drives him freaking nuts. Can’t control himself at all. Just a goner. No use in attempting to resist you. He gives in to you willingly, grabbing your forearm to pull you to him. Making you sit on his lap while never letting you stop kissing him. Tongues dancing in sync. Lips wet and getting messy.

Fuck, he can’t get enough either. His dick goes hard instantly, head spinning. Your mouth just slots against him perfectly. That makes him wonder what else would fit that flawlessly with you. Even the thought is making his dick twitch. He intended to do just that this morning. To bury himself to the hilt inside you. Only if his best friend isn’t a pain in the ass. He didn’t take you right on this same countertop yesterday, only because he thought it would be too tiring for you. All the drinks, preparations, dancing, singing might be taking a toll on you. Didn’t want to tire you more even before the day started. Now though, when he knows you’ll be more than willing to take him, he is slowly starting to forget his surroundings.

You are addictive simply. Even though he hasn’t taken you completely yet. The way you kiss him. The desperation in it. Your sweet moans. Your scent. The way you gasp when he kisses your neck and throat. The way you say his name when his hand cups your breast over your T-shirt. He hates that you’re wearing a bra. Not that it’ll stop him. He has a mission, which is to keep eliciting those sweet sounds from you. Pleasuring you is his biggest turn-on. How odd. This is a first. So, he latches his lips over your nipple. Through your lacy bra and your T-shirt. Wets the spot with his saliva, watching your face. You’re becoming a mess quickly. Oh, he is absolutely going to fuck you right here. How beautiful you look.

“Goddammit Lil.” He only pulls away to let you know he is equally affected. Wants you to feel sexy. To know how hard you make him. Then he is back at sucking on your nipple. Biting. Kissing. And is at the verge of bending you over the counter when─

“Yah! For fucking seriously? Are you two on some kind of pill or something? Why are you ravishing on each other like there’s no tomorrow all the time?” Jimin withdraws from you in light speed at Seokjin’s voice.

For fucks sake!

Annoyance bubbles inside Jimin as he sees his older friend standing in the doorway. It pops out instantly, however, when your mortified squeak reaches his ears. You hide your face on his neck and the wet spot on your breasts in his chest. This is embarrassing really. Yet, the best thing to do when caught is to act like it’s nothing. Less embarrassing that way. Jimin clears his throat, holding you close.

“What? It’s not my fault that you don’t get your dick wet.” Answers as casually as he can. Seokjin is obviously about to counter back when his chance is stolen.

“Oh, he definitely got his dick wet yesterday.” The thief who stole Seokjin’s chance reveals themselves to be J, as she enters the kitchen. Shoulders tilting. Jimin’s jaw drops to the floor at the same time Seokjin goes red. Even you pull away from his neck to look at Jin with your mouth agape.

“What?” You and Jimin question at the same time. Get ignored.

“For the sake of fuck J, don’t you know anything about the damn privacy and secrecy.” Jin walks to J, who is now peering at the soup.

“Well, what? It’s not like I told them what we did exactly. Don’t tell me you’re the type to be wanting to fuck a young ripe bad bitch and then keeping it a secret because you’re fucking ashamed.” J says that so quickly that Jimin almost misses it. His Hyung looks taken aback.

“Who said anything about being ashamed. It’s just that─” Jin searches for the right word. Jimin pities him. Poor man. “It’s just that, it’s embarrassing to let Jimin know about my sexual escapades.” Points at Jimin. Jimin gapes at Jin with disbelief.

“Why the fuck not?” Asks. J and you agree with him by chanting ‘exactly’. Jin looks bewildered.

“What do you think Jimin. It’s like sharing it with my mother.” Jin states. Takes a seat across from Jimin.

“That’s not so bad, I share them with my mother all the time.”  J replies. Sits beside Jimin. Now everyone is gaping at her with wide eyes. Jimin thinks it’s cute how you’ve forgotten to cover the wet spot on your chest.

“That’s super weird, J. I mean, it is, right? You don’t do that right?” You mutter in disbelief. Looking back and forth between Jimin and Jin. “Of course not.” Jimin cringes at the prospect. J is weird. Everybody is weird. Especially, his friend. Never in a million years Jimin would’ve thought Kim fucking Seokjin will be interested at someone like J. Not that there’s anything wrong with her. Simply she is the polar opposite of Seokjin. But then things happens. Just like how he is keeping you on his lap. Close to him. He and you are the weirdest.

…………………………………………………….

“You want to know how to become a potato?” Jungkook asks you as all of you are slowly walking through the snow-covered pavements of a seemingly abandoned city. There isn’t even a stray cat on the roads. Apparently, this is the plan for the day. Eating at a famous yet rural restaurant, which is supposed to be somewhere around. After parking your vehicles, Hoseok suggested walking to the restaurant but without any success yet. You’ve been strolling through these streets for over an hour now. There are suspicions arousing from the group. Suspicions of being lost. But it’s still fun. Doesn’t feel like you’ve walked for such a long time when you’ve been laughing so hard. And enjoying this to the fullest.

You nod in answer for Jungkook’s question, enthusiastically, before Jimin rudely butts in. “Why the fuck would you want to become a potato?” Walking behind you, with Taehyung who is currently trying to walk with his eyes closed. Jimin isn’t the happiest of your walking arrangements but wasn’t given another option. Taehyung is clinging to him.

“Why not? That’s fun. I’d become a rock if I could. Easy life.” Yoongi joins from the other side of you. You’re walking between him and Jungkook.

“Rock is acceptable, but a potato? Potatoes get eaten by, kids. Unacceptable.” Seokjin gives his opinion. Is walking with, now not so surprisingly with J. In front of you. Yoona and Namjoon being the people in front of them. Hoseok and Seoyeon on the lead. You blinks at Seokjin’s face when he partially turns his head to look at you. Good point. You turn to Jungkook. Gape at his face, waiting for a counterpoint. He doesn’t give that.

“I didn’t think about that actually.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. Then zones out. Probably thinking about being a potato and not getting eaten by.

“That’s a shame.” You mumble. Jimin snorts. Says how he still can’t comprehend why you want to become a potato. Yoongi starts listing million reasons as to why it’s a good idea when you abruptly bumps into Jin’s hard back. Jungkook bumping into J. Jimin into you. Taehyung into Jungkook. Apparently, the same thing has happened to Jin and J as well. They are balancing on their feet after the hard collision with Namjoon and Yoona. Cursing.

“What the fuck?” Jimin bellows, as his hands grab you. Saving you from falling down. Taehyung whines next to him. Accepting his fate and just leaning against Jungkook. Jin yells at a very innocent Namjoon making him point at Hoseok with an open mouth.

“It’s him. He stopped out of nowhere.” Namjoon looks like an overgrown bunny when he does that. Reasonable why Yoona is always giving him heart eyes.

“Would you mind giving us a warning next time Hobi? I really can’t handle having my head shaken so many times.” Taehyung finally leans away from Jungkook’s hard body. Hoseok, however, is not paying any attention. Is having a heated conversation with Seoyeon.

“We are not lost. I know where we’re going.” He mutters while turning a full circle around. Eyes glued to his phone screen.

“We passed this stupid shop for three times already Jung Hoseok.” Seoyeon seethes, pointing at the floral shop to your right. All of you look at it. You squint your eyes. Now when you think about it, you’re pretty sure that you did just that. Passed it a couple of times before. And it’s confirmed when Yoona says the same.

“Oh, yeah. I remember this one too. Are you serious Hobi? You promised me the best Samgyetang and dragged us here. I didn’t even taste the hangover soup because I wanted to save space for this one.” She whines. Gives up and falls into her boyfriend’s arms. Namjoon holds her. Pets her hair. Dramatic but sweet. “Your loss.” Jimin says, hands still holding you. Sounds a bit offended. He works hard for that soup after all. Yet, Yoona is the only idiot who didn’t try it. Her loss, indeed.

“We’re not lost at all guys. We. Are. Not. I completely trust technology.” Hoseok points at his phone before starting to turn left and right. Looks extremely comical.

“You shouldn’t sometimes though.” J voices. Very subtly but obviously letting Jin wraps his hands around her. You have to bite back the amused grin that threatens to break on your face. After all, it’s just you and Jimin who know that they are hooking up. That’s what they told you at least. You wonder how and why nobody questions them being so close. Hoseok interrupts your observations. A triumphant noise leaving his mouth. Gestures to his left.

“It’s this way everyone. I think I missed it before.” Looks elated. As if he just solves the mystery of dark matter. Already started towards the side street. Is very empty, similar to the one you’ve been rounding for all these times. Strikes as a danger to you.

“Uh… are you sure Hobi? Looks shady to me.” You express your concerns, but Hoseok doesn’t even look at you. If you haven’t mistaken, Hoseok acts like he has a problem with you. Like you’ve done something unforgivable to him. For the day, you spent with these people, Hoseok hasn’t shared more than ten words with you. Even the shared ten words are concerning the important matters. Nothing personal. Nothing friendly. Everyone starts to follow him with several protests.

“Oh good. This is how we’ll die. Should’ve made this a vlog. My last ever vlog.” Yoongi exasperates. Jungkook says something about being able to drop out of college if he dies. Is thinking very positively. You turn your head slightly to Jimin before he lets you go.

“Is Hoseok mad at me?” That’s a very genuine concern. Maybe, he has a problem with Liya. Who knows. You just want to know so you’ll not make a fool out of yourself by trying to make small friendly talk with him. Just to get rudely ignored. Just like now. Jimin’s eyes soften as you look at him curiously. Shakes his head. “Don’t mind him.” Says before letting you go. You want to disagree. Say that you need to know if there’s an issue, but Jungkook has yanked you to his side the moment you’re out of Jimin’s grasp.

…………………………………………….

You ended up in a forest. A freaking forest. Seoyeon nearly ripped Hoseok’s head off. Taehyung had to physically restrain his girlfriend from murdering one of his best friends. That made his headache worse. In the end, Jimin and Jungkook had to drag Taehyung back. It was an endless trail of complaints. Jimin swore in his life that he’ll never let Taehyung drink again. You all know that’s a lie. By the time you finally arrived at Hoseok’s very famous Samgyetang restaurant. After wandering over for another hour or so. Jimin and Jungkook are practically panting and sweating like two pigs.

“Gosh, why am I friends with you again.” Jimin breathes out, slumping against the wall. Stretching out his feet under the table where you all are sitting on the heated floor. Jungkook is pressing his flushed face on the cold table. Taehyung who has happened to sit between Jimin and you, chose to budge you by leaning against your figure. You decide to put up with that. No longer in a position to judge him. If anything, you and he are on the same boat. So is Jimin. All three of you are shameless cheaters. Sinners. So much for thinking, you’ll never be able to carry the weight of guilt. Now look at where you are. Enjoying someone else’s life to the fullest. Having the best of best orgasms in your life with that person’s five years of boyfriend. There’s a guilty consciousness, yes. But not enough to prevent you from seeking more. Absolutely shameless. Even now, you want to sit next to Jimin.

You take a long look at him. He catches that. Smiles softly at you before Hoseok interrupts you by reaching the table. Despite him vowing this place to be quite popular, only people here are your party. No other patrons. Empty. And funnily enough, Hoseok acts like he knows this place. When you inquire from Yoongi, if Hoseok has been here before, he assures you that he hasn’t. Just his cousin been a weirdo. Hoseok sits right across from you. His smile is so wide that it could light up the entire neighborhood.

“Food will be here in a minute.” He lets all of you know.

“And are you sure we’ll live after eating that?” Yoongi questions next to him. Hoseok gives him a look. “What? You said this place is popular. I can’t see anyone here. And the entire neighborhood looks shady man. What if these people are serial killers? What if they are feeding us their previous victims?” Yoongi keeps questioning with wide eyes. Several people let out whines of complaints at the last part.

“Shut the fuck up Yoongi.” Namjoon throws his beanie at him. Yoona practically cries. Says she is starving to death, and she’ll eat whatever they give her. Another series of whines rise up. Very fair. Yoongi is running your lunch. It’s not just Yoona now. You’re starving to death as well. And the last thing you want is to think that you’ve entered a horror movie and are about to become cannibals. The whines quickly turns out into an argument. Requests to keep their mouths shut and the possibilities of all of you dying throwing here and there. And the ways you would die becomes the main topic. For one thing, Hoseok looks bit uncertain after Yoongi’s suspicions. Practically smacks Yoongi across his head when he yet again explains the way they would keep their victims alive to kill at the right moment. Funny how you and him in unison ask Yoongi to keep it close. He doesn’t.

And you think it’s ridiculous how all of you ended up staring at your Samgyetang bowls with furrowed brows, after the food arrived.

“C’mon this is ridiculous guys.” J exclaims aloud. Pokes the chicken with her chopsticks. “It’s obviously a chicken.” Adds that part. Takes a look around all of your faces.

“What if they make the─” Yoongi opens his mouth.

“Oh my god! Will you stop you little piece of shit.” Hoseok bangs his fist on the table. The dishes clatter.

“Fuck you, Yoonigi!.” You agree. Hoseok meets your eye for a minute but looks away immediately.

“Guess what? I don’t give a fuck. I’m eating.” Yoona disrupts Hoseok’s tantrum. Waits for another moment and staying true to her word digs right in. The rest of you watch her eating. In pure disbelief. Jimin is the next to follow her.

“Fuck this.” Says before stuffing his face. And then one by one you all follow. It tastes like chicken gladly.

…………………………………………………….

The people- who were nice and obviously not serial killers- at the Samgyetang place let you know that the place is popular through the entire year but near the New Year’s Eve it’s not. That’s how it works apparently, without any specific reason. And the abandoned and shady city turned out to be pretty inhabited. It’s just that they prefer to stay inside. Unlike you guys who are now raiding a convenience store, where there is not much available to buy.

“Fuck I need Almonds.” Taehyung exclaims. Searching through the three shelves in this store for the fifth time now. You and Jimin following him.

“You’re not going to find Almond just because you keep searching Tae. There’s no Almond here.” Jimin picks up a pack of snacks. Hands it to you. You take it.

“Why would you need Almond?” You ask from Taehyung. “It helps me with my headaches.” He answers. Appear to be better than how he was an hour ago. “Oh! Maybe you should take some pain killers.” You suggest, watching Taehyung shakes his head. “Already did that. Not going to work.” Pouts hard. Jimin sighs next to you.

“Why did you drink that much you idiot?” Grabs by the back of Taehyung’s neck. In an affectionate way.

“Aahh... tell me about it Jimin-ah, tell me about it.” Taehyung looks heavenward. Something common for two best friends. You almost chuckle at that when Jin’s voice echoes through the small store.

“Taehyung!” You all snap your heads to where his voice booms. Taeyhung perking up instantly, leaving you and Jimin in light speed. Mumbles ‘Almond’ as he goes. And you finally chuckle, shaking your head. Turn back to Jimin. A soft smile ghost on your lips which he reciprocates.

“Are you tired?” Questions. To be completely honest, you are. But nothing unbearable yet. It’s not just you after all, Jimin hasn’t slept a wink last night either. You just know it’ll be harder with every hour passing by. For now, though, you can manage. So, you shake your head to let him know you’re not tired.

“Are you?” Ask the same thing from him. He says he’s fine. But then you change your mind. Just as an afterthought. Decide it’s better if you can rest your legs. No need to waste your energy wandering around a convenience store. Have no idea what your friends are doing. They don’t buy anything, nor do they want to leave. When you voice your need aloud, Jimin grabs your hand. “Want to go outside? Saw benches there.” Suggests to which you agree with a beat of your heart. He pays for your snack and in a minute, you’re munching on it. Sitting on a said bench beside the store.

It's peacefully silent for a moment before Jimin breaks it. “You ever been in a relationship?” Inquires suddenly. You slowly turn your head to him. Stop swaying your legs. He is asking you for another one. Just like this morning. You still don’t like it. One by one curious question, you are becoming closer and closer. It would’ve been just fine if you and he could keep your hands away from each other. Something normal a pair of friends would do. Now, though, when you had come on his tongue, made him come on his god damn pants, this is not fine. He is looking at you expectantly, however. You try to find a rough answer. Or a way to take his mind away from it.

“Couple of times, yeah.” You vaguely reply. Hoping he would let it go.

“What do you mean couple of times.” He chuckles. Awful. This is. That he wants to know you. Why would he want that. Then didn’t you want the same.

“Well, I had a boyfriend when I was in high school and then during my freshman year.”

“That’s just two times. Was any of that serious or just casual?” There’s an irritation in his voice. As if he is jealous. Ridiculous of you to think that. You want to change the subject. Want to talk about something that doesn’t involve becoming two people who are nothing more than a causal fuck.

“Does that matter Park?” You try to laugh. Just to add some lightness to your question. He shrugs. A scowl on his face. “What? I’m just curious.” States. You think you can change the course.

“Yeah? About what?” Gasp. “Do you want to know if my ex was able to make me cum on my pants? Like you did?” Well, that’s a stupid way to do that. Yet, he scoffs and turns to you with pure disbelief. “No… not at all but, c’mon you know he wasn’t.” Answers very smugly. It’s true though. But you’ll not let him know. Just prefer to have a conversation about coming in twelve different ways than him prying into your life. You scoff as well.

“Don’t be so sure Park. Maybe… he didn’t do that buut... maybe he did make me cum so hard I forgot my name.” You smirk. Followed by a raise of your brow. Jimin looks utterly offended. Gasps loudly.

“Are you underestimating my abilities? Are you saying I didn’t make you forget your own name?” Points an accusatory finger at you.

“Yes.” You say without a beat. Again, a lie.

“Wanna bet?”

“About what?”

He doesn’t answer that. Instead, snatches the packet of snacks away from you. You’re about to call him all the insulting names when he shut you up with a kiss. Open mouthed. Tongue very much involved. Leaves you heaving for breath when he pulls away. Only to make a demand against your lips.

“On my lap Lil. C’mon.” Straightens up to make space for you. You blink at his face. What is he about to do? Don’t move a finger until he grabs your wrist and yanks you to him. “C’mon baby.” Says again. So, you comply. Still very confused but intrigued the same. Excited. First, you think he wants you to straddle him and is about make you grind on him again. Are mortified considering you’re in public. In broad daylight. He doesn’t, however. Makes you just sit on his lap, back pressed against his chest. Gets you comfortable, his cheek is pressing onto yours. Places a couple kisses on your neck before sucking on your pulse point.

“Wh-what are you d…doing Jimin?” You’re very pathetically already breathless. All it takes is a kiss. He just hums, which doesn’t make any sense to you. Then his hands are travelling south on your body. Annoyingly, both of you are wearing layers of clothing. Hence, the lack of sensation when his hands moves over your breasts. Still, it’s enough to make a low moan escape from your chest. Which quickly turns into a panicked gasping, when Jimin’s hands doesn’t stop but start undoing your pant buttons. Your hands reach to grab from his wrists. Preventing him.

“Jimin, Jimin... Wha- what are you... Jimin?” You nearly yank his hands away when he places another kiss. This time on your temple. “Relax baby. I’ll stop if someone walks in, okay? I promise.” His voice is back to being low and husky. Is murmuring in your ear. Gets your cunt clenching. Arousal seeping through. The thought that he is about to do this here, on the outside, with the possible risks gets you turned on to no end. This is a first time for you, have never done something like this before. Are very excited, nonetheless. Slowly becoming impatient.

“Okay Lil?” Jimin asks again. Despite the fact that you’ve loosened your grip on his wrists, without even realizing, he hasn’t moved an inch forward. Gives you a reassuring squeeze. You’re already aroused. “Baby?” Mumbles again. Oh, you trust him, don’t you? Well, you do very much. Your head is bobbing up and down fast. Giving your consent.

“Say it.” Jimin teasingly pushes his hand past your waist band.

“O- okay. I mean… do it.” You succumb. Which is all what it takes. Jimin’s hand slips past your pants and inside your panties in a record time. Finds your clit first. Just rubs soothing circles before goes down to your clenching hole. Gathers your wetness and spreads it all across your folds. Slowly. Teasingly. Sensually. Hums approvingly.

“Already fucking wet baby. So eager, aren’t you? Dripping─” Presses his fingers over your clit. Bit harshly that you mewl. “─wet. Say it’s for me.” Demands yet again. And you’re doing exactly what he wants. “For you. It’s for you Jimin.” Moan your words out. Bend your knees, placing the soles of your shoes on his knees. He is happy with your compliance.

“Spread.” Encourages you further. So, you do as you are asked. How demeaning and mortifying this could be if someone walks in. Your legs spread. Just for Jimin. His hand very obviously buried inside your cunt. Not that you can think things rationally. Impossible when he is rubbing his fingers over your slit relentlessly. The world fades away when one of those fingers’ prods at your entrance. Teases for a bit and then he is entering. Through your spasming walls. Adds a second one. Stretches you wide, palm pressing against the throbbing bud of nerves.

Starts thrusting slowly. Then picks up speed, curling his fingers up. Stroking your walls till he finds that spongy spot. With that you’re just a mess. A shameless, pathetic mess. You have to bite your bottom lips so harshly that you’re sure the blood is drawing, to keep the noises muffled. Jimin makes it super hard for you. Each drag on your walls, each rub on your clit, gets you crashing down in his hold.

“Fuck Lil. Like that. You like it?”

Why does he expect you to answer? When he is just doing what he wanted to do. Makes you forget your own name.

“Just wait till we’re back at the cottage baby. Fuck, I’m gonna fuck you until you fucking can’t walk. Gonna make you forget everything except my name hm? Do you like it Lil? You want me to ruin this cute hole?”

You manage a nod. A barely there one. He chuckles. More of a snicker. Picks his speed up from a notch. Keeps hitting that spot. Your walls uncontrollably clenching around his fingers. Throbbing. Bringing you closer.

“C’mon baby cum for me. Cum hard hm? Be a good slut now.”

You love the filth he spills in your ear. Makes you even closer to your high.

“Look at you. Going dumb just over my fingers, imagine it’s my cock baby. Imagine it’s my cock making you drip down out in this open. Where anyone can walk in. Aren’t you a stupid slut to like this. A whore to let me─” The rest of his words are swallowed by a groan he himself makes at the way you suddenly shriek. Your thighs shaking and back arching. Walls clamping down on his fingers. His words make you fall over the edge. A loud moan in shape of his name finally escapes your mouth despite your best efforts.

“Jimin… oh god fuck.” You whimper in pure pleasure. He says something about you being the best little girl which is drowned by the ringing of your ears. You take your time to calm down. Jimin keeps his hands still inside your pants until you do. Only then he slowly retrieves it out, making a mess on his way. Not that you truly care. You turn your head around to watch him sucks his fingers clean. What a sight. Park Jimin is. Makes a new wave of arousal wash over you. He is going to be the death of you.

You’re certain he will when he pulls you into another kiss.

“You okay?” Asks with such a gentle caring tone that your heart squeezes. You nod. Say that you’ve never been better. Got him laughing. A sight for sore eyes. Got him kissing you again. A worthy reason to die today. You reluctantly pull away from him when he stops you. Turns your face to him with your chin. Keeping you on his lap.

“Lil?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that, okay? I mean… I uh... called you...” He stutters. You know what he means. Is funny he think you’ll not ask him to stop if you weren’t okay with that. You’re pretty sure he called you a slut yesterday as well. So, you interrupt him.

“What a slut? And a whore?” Give him what he is trying to ask. He just stares at you. Nervously so. You find it endearing. Can’t help the urge to kiss him again. So, you give into that urge. Kiss him hard. “It’s fine Jimin. I would’ve asked you not to call me so if I wasn’t.” Answer. Then you want to kiss him again when he smiles. It’s getting out of control.

“Yeah? You will?”

“I will.” You assure. Jimin nods. This time it’s him who takes you into another kiss. Makes you shudder by mumbling something about wanting badly to fuck your brains out. Fix your pants while saying so, nonetheless. He is caring in a scary way.

This is fine. It’s just a day.

…………………………………………..

Ever since Jimin made you cum on his fingers. Out on a bench with all your friends nearby, you weren’t okay at all. The good thing is, he wasn’t okay either. He has his fiery gaze fixed upon you all the damn time. Undressing you with his eyes. Hell, the man even texted you and asked if you were still soaking wet, so ready to be taken, while you walked back to your cars. With Seoyeon. And you had to recite stupid lies when she asked why you were turning deep red. There was a thick tension. Swirling around you two. Even an unintentional brush against your hand made you rub your thighs. Isn’t that crazy? It is. Yet, it’s what happening.

It's mind-blowing how your head spins as he presses you against your bedroom door. Kissing you madly. Devouring your mouth with his. Neither of you is caring about how hard it is to breathe. Ignoring the way your lungs protest. It’s ridiculous how you can’t think about anything else but him. Park Jimin. You can’t get enough. It’s that simple. You want more and more. One leg is hooking around his waist. Desperately, grinding your hips for some friction. Jimin does the same. Presses his hardness against you. Not a single piece of clothing has been shredded yet. The moment you were inside this private space, Jimin had you pressed against him and the door. Attacking your lips like a starved animal. It’s good but see, you want more.

“Jimin… Ji…min. Wanna taste you. Wa- wanna suck you off.” You break the kiss to mumble that. Noting how he visibly loses his mind at that. Shuddering. Sucks in a shaky breath. Leaving out an animalistic groan.

“Ye- yeah? You want that? Want my dick on your mouth─” Asks while nearly ripping your sweater off your body. “Tell how much you want that baby.” Gets you half bare. You fumble with his belt. So, ready to drop to your knees right at the spot. He just allow you. But still knowing him, based on these few times you and he were intimate, you know he expects you to do as he asked.

“Want it so bad Jimin. Give it to me hm? I need you. Want to taste you so bad.” You’re not messing around here. Each word you utter, you mean it. Because that’s how desperate you are for him. That’s how you’re burning up with the fire. How will you ever be able to go back to normal? He has you completely ruined with bare minimum. How pathetic? You’re working on autopilot mode as you push your hand inside his pants. Palming him through his boxers. Absolutely, loving the way he bucks into your touch. For a minute before he lost it completely. As if something snap. Pushes your hand away so he can get rid of the remaining barriers between you two. His hoodie, pants. Your pants follow. Still, however, he keeps his boxers and makes you keep your panties and bra as well. He can be infuriating.

You’re completely frustrated by the time he sits back on the edge of the bed. Frustrated but enjoying it all the same. Just exciting to expect his next moves. Being curious adds more fuel to your fire. Loving it when he takes his time. Toying and playing. Especially, now as he leans back slightly, placing his weight on one arm. Using the other to palm himself through his boxers, eyes burning into you. You who are standing before him, just in your underwear. Like a vulnerable, exposed, and defenseless prey. Just to please him. For his pleasure and that’s it. And you love it. Are getting restless. He smirks, watching the way you are rubbing your thighs uncontrollably. He looks like a god. Pure sin. Gestures to the floor with his eyes. You take the hint right away. Find yourself kneeling in front of him at light speed. Gulping harshly to sooth your dry throat. He comes even closer to the edge. Stops palming himself to caress your cheek. You lean into that touch, heart pounding in your ears.

“You want this baby?” Asks in a husky voice. All you can manage is a weak yes. “Go on then Lil. Do whatever you want.” Gives you the green light. And you jump into action. Pulling from the waistband of his boxer, dragging it through his thick thighs. He helps by raising his hips up. Freeing his cock from its tight confines, making Jimin moan when the cold air hits him. Making you moan when his bare cock finally comes into your view. Hard and throbbing, straining against his skin. Flushed. Precum already leaking. You’re really embarrassed at the way you whimpered. At the way your breath visibly hitched. Most of all, you want the floor to swallow you up at the words that leaves your mouth.

“You’re pretty.” You’re mortified when you mutter that. In a very breathy and hoarse voice. Jimin actually laughs. Even throws his head back. “Yeah? Thought you said my dick is ugly.” Is petting your hair. You look at him with a pout. “Never said that. Said I assume that maybe you’re ugly, and I take that back. Happy?” You think counter back is a good way to preserve your dignity. But that doesn’t make the smug look wiped off Jimin’s face. He just snakes his hand around the back of your neck. Slowly brings your face closer to his hard member. Slowly. Until your face is just millimeters away from his throbbing cock. You keep your eyes on his face. Watch the way his amused expression turns into something feral when your breath hits the sensitive skin. So, you blow on to it. Think there’ll be no other music to compare with his shaky moan. You do it again and again. Poke your tongue out just to kitten lick his shaft, keeping your head just where he holds it.

“Holy fuck! Fucking hell Lil… God.” He groans and lets go off your head. Grits his teeth to keep his composure. But you want him to lose it. Snap. Become a mess. You’re determined to make him when you start to drag the tip of your tongue, across his shaft. Pleased at the way his dick twitched. He can be infuriating but so can you. Keep licking and kissing through, never completely giving in. Not wrapping your lips around but just dragging your tongue over the flushed tip. Tasting the pre cum. Licking and playing with his balls. You feel really proud when it doesn’t take that long. Jimin bucks into your lips.

“Oh, you fucking tease…” Grabs from your head again. “Don- don’t tease. Lil…” Holds your head in place but you don’t do what he wants. Wait patiently till he snaps. “Fuck. Do something baby. Take me in, want to feel you wrap around me.” Starts to crumble. It’s a shame you’re too impatient to wait for him to beg. But you’re fully satisfied with what you got. Hence, waste no time wrapping your lips around his leaking tip. Humming and moaning. Jimin’s moans entangling with yours. You swirls your tongue around his tip before slowly starting to take him further in. Not that you’ve the best experiences in blowjobs. Still, you know what you’re doing. Knows how to pleasure. So, you do your best. Taking him the best way, you can. Bobbing your head up and down. Dragging your tongue. Licking at his balls. Mouthing at his tip. Are on a mission. Slobbering. Sucking.

See now, you don’t think you ever wanted to make someone feel good, than now you want to make Park Jimin. His growls and grunts pared with his taste makes you blissed even without a single touch on your body. You keep your eyes at his disheveled look. Mouth opens and panting. Skin glistening. Trying so bad not to ruin your rhythm and push into you. You want him to do that. So, you pull away, spit drooling into your chin. Rub your thighs as you speak.

“Fuck my mouth.”

Jimin makes a strangling noise at that.

“Fuck, are you sure?”

“Yes, Jimin…” You whisper, breathless. “Please.”

“Lil… fuck you can’t… shit. Fuck, okay. Tap my thigh if it’s too much, okay?”

You just nod. And luckily, he is too impatient now to ask you to say it. You open your mouth, relaxing your jaw. Letting him take control and use your mouth. Feeling his cock heavy on your tongue, forcing your head down and down till you feel the tip of him hitting your throat. Jimin gives you a minute. Again, this is a first time for you. But you’re pretty confident that you can handle it.

“Breathe baby. Don’t hold your breath.” He mumbles. You nod around him. Take couple few seconds before humming, asking him to continue. So, he does. Starting slow. Bucking his hips into your mouth. Gripping the back of your head. Losing control, by every minute his dick is engulfed in the warmth of your mouth. Second by second picking up the speed. Fucking your face. And you’re drooling, sputtering. Trying bad to control your gag reflex. Eyes stinging with tears. Choking on his dick. Each time a gag erupts, Jimin becomes more feral. Fingers gripping your hair harsh, gritting his teeth to hold back. Not to hurt you. Not to push so much on you. The thing is, you’re actually loving every minute of this. Are turned on so badly that you can’t help but keep squeezing your thighs together. Desperate for some kind of friction. There’s an urge to just touch yourself while Jimin uses your mouth to get off. Think it’s embarrassing. But not to Jimin. No. Even with his blissed-out state, he has his eyes on you. Just knows what you’re thinking. You’re not surprised anymore. Not at all when he stutters through his moans and grunts.

“Go ahead, d- do it.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

You want to ask what but are unable to do so. Only capable of drooling more and looking at him with tear filled eyes.

“Touch yourself Lil. You want to, don’t you? Go ahead, rub your pretty clit while I fuck your mouth. Ah─ fucking slut.”

You nearly sob at that. Complying with his demand instantly. One hand still digging into his thigh, you take the other to slip inside your wet panties. Moaning so loud at the friction on your clit, which is muffled by his cock. Then it’s all a sobering mess. Spit. Tears. Moans. Grunts. Curses. Jimin is relentless. You hold onto him with all your strength while your free hand keep circling your sensitive nub. Willing yourself to keep going till he falls over the edge. And it doesn’t take that long.

“Fuck baby I’m close. Hold on. Shit, your mouth feel so good. You look so pretty choking on my cock baby. God─ Dumb fucking slut.” His words make your fingers work at double speed. Your throat clenching when he hits the back.

“Lil, fuck... do- do y- you want me to... inside your mouth huh? Want me to cume in your throat baby?” Jimin forces you a little bit more on his cock. Yet again, it’s a weak nod and a moan is all you can manage. Jimin loves it apparently. No matter how weak your nod is. Because he curses loudly at that. Lose the precision in his movements for second before forces your head completely down. Your nose meets his pelvis. Hips stuttering and stilling as ropes and ropes of white hits your throat. Making your sob partially due to the discomfort but mainly due to the pleasure. Pure, hot pleasure. Jimin holds you there for just a second longer before releasing you. You pull away, greedily sucking in breath to sooth your burning lungs. Saliva covering your entire chin and tears covering your cheeks. You must look like a filthy mess, but the way Jimin looks at you tell you that you’re a hot mess.

“God baby. You’re just… Fuck!” Jimin is heaving for breath as well. His chest rising up and down. Yet bends down immediately to cup your face with both of his hands. “You’re okay right? Lil?” Wipes away your tears. Rubs your face soothingly. You whimper.

“I’m fine. Just aching for─” You don’t get to complete the sentence when Jimin suddenly grabs from your forearms. Yanking you to your feet.

“Up baby c’mon.” A squeal escapes your lips. Jimin isn’t satiated it seems, the demon inside him is still there. The way he rips your bra away is humanly impossible. Your panties follows next. Got you straddling him. Instead of placing you over his crotch, however, he hurriedly lay down. Legs still dangling over the edge. Slaps your ass slightly.

“On my face Lil. Ride my face. Want to eat you out until your legs can’t hold you anymore.”

You look at him surprisingly for a moment. Then nod. If he wants that you’re not going to argue. Move forward with your knees fast as you can. Nearly hovers down your aching cunt on his face when a knock erupts on the door, freezing you. You almost panicked and run away at light speed before you remember that the door is securely fastened. Jimin annoyingly groans under you, frustrated. Your face flushes with embarrassment as you scramble off him. Sitting down beside when the interrupter speaks through. Funny it’s Jin’s voice since you expected it to be Kim freaking Taehyung.

“I’m extremely sorry to ruin your fuck session brother, but the stupid Ji Hun wants to talk to you right now. Can’t be delayed because I already tried.”

“Are you fucking serious Hyung?” Jimin sits back. It’s a comical situation. You can’t laugh though. Not when your clit is still throbbing.

“Yes. And I’m sorry. Just five minutes max. Say whatever he needs to hear.” Jin shouts. You can imagine him pressing his ear to your door. Jimin looks at you. Despite your frustration you can understand that he needs to work. You give him a soft and reassuring smile.

“That’s okay.” Mumble. Peck his lips. Jimin takes a moment to make sure you’re really fine. When he does, kisses you deeply.

“Just five minutes okay. Ten max. Take a shower if you want. I’ll be back by the time you finish.” Suggests. And you agree. Seems like a good idea.

“Be quick.” Gift him another kiss. “I’m dripping.” Purr against his mouth, smirking when he whimpered.

………………………………………………

You’ve never showered this fast before. Only twelve minutes. Precisely. A record. And sticking to his word Jimin was there when you left the bathroom. The only problem? He was fast asleep. Breathing deeply and peaceful. So, you’re just standing near the edge of the bed for God knows how long. Like a creep. If anything, you should feel irritated, annoyed. He left you hanging. Now is sleeping like nothing matters. The thing is you don’t feel anything remotely close to irritation. Or annoyance. Instead, you feel your heart swooning. Swelling. Adoration fills you up. You feel affection. A deep urge to kiss his puffy cheeks and pouty lips. He looks angelic. The amber hue of the ceiling lights creates a golden hue on his face. He looks beautiful. In most humanly way. Neck tilts to one side and has one of his hands curled into a tight fist. As though he’s holding onto a dream.

God! Why?

Why does he have to do this to you? Why does your heart skips beating when there’s nothing illicit happening? Why do you want to kiss him madly when you don’t feel aroused at all?

Fuck this is not good.

You want to kiss him for no reason. Because you feel like it. To feel closer.

Nope. No.

That wasn’t the deal. You turn around your heel fast. Then turn back again on a second thought. Cover him with the comforter and flee the room like a hurricane.

…………………………………..

It’s not that late. Just near midnight but all your friends have decided to call it an early night that day. Must be damn exhausted by all the drinking, partying, and walking. You envy them. They’ll be here tomorrow as well. You won’t. Simply can’t handle 72 hours straight. There’s a painful disappointment inside you. This day is slipping away. No scratch that, it’s already over. A day. That was your deal. You and Jimin wanted a day to pretend normal and satiate your burning desires. And you did to a certain extent but not completely. You’re still very much drooling at his sight. Heart beating madly and arousals seeping through you. Maybe if you have actually fucked, this day could’ve been a huge success. Finally satisfied.

Well, you can obviously wake him up instead of watching him sleep. But you know you can’t. Even though you shouldn’t, you care too much. How could you just wake that peaceful angel up. Too cruel. It doesn’t matter that your time in paradise is over. That you have to face reality, and you haven’t gained anything during your journey. You’ll still make sure Park Jimin is sleeping tight. Resting. Will stay awake till the sun rise, till he wake up. And to assist you to do that you need huge load of caffeine. 

That was your intention when you take the sharp corner to the kitchen. Only to collide with a hard chest as a loud mewl escapes your mouth.

“Fuck, sorry.” The person whispers. Trying to keep the quiet of the cottage. People are sleeping after all. You raise your head to look at the owner of the chest. Who turned out to be Jungkook with a glass of water in his hand. You’ve caused it to spill a little bit. He appears just as surprised as you.

“Oh, I’m sorry Kookie. Didn’t see you there.” You apologize fast since it’s your fault.

“Noona?” He whispers again.

“Yes.” You whisper back.

“What are you doing.”

“Ah, I couldn’t sleep so I just came down. Late night snack thing.” You think it’s stupid to say you need a coffee just after you said you couldn’t sleep. Jungkook hums in understanding. And just when you think he’ll leave you up to mind your own business, he speak again.

“Can’t sleep either.” He is inadvertently covering your way to the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

He hums again. You nearly round him to go past to the kitchen.

“Do you smoke?” This time he raise his voice a little bit, so he is mumbling now. You shouldn’t be surprised that he is asking random questions from you at random moments. You decide to stay honest and say yes. Ask him why he asks.

“Well, since both of us can’t sleep, how about a smoke?” Is back to whispering. Gestures to the window clearly indicating outside. “Wanna go out?” Adds that question as well. You take a minute to consider his invitation. Decide that it’s better to have some company than being alone. Mumble a simple but eager yes.

…………………………………

You and Jungkook stand under a dormant maple tree. Wrapped up in winter coats. You’re definitely not wearing yours and Jungkook’s oversized one swallows you whole. Freshly fallen snowflakes scrunch under your heavy boots. Stars glitter above you in the clear sky after the snowfall. Air is crisp and biting. Kisses your face like thousands of needles. Even with the large winter jacket, you’re shivering slightly.

“Are you too cold Noona? Want to head back inside.” Jungkook asks you as he exhales a puff of smoke. Holds the cigarette to you. You were quite surprised when he didn’t give you your own. But it’s so expected of Jungkook to wanting to share a one. In the end, you didn’t protest. You take the cigarette from him while shaking your head.

“No. I like this actually. Relaxing, isn’t it? And the sky is beautiful.” You hollow your cheeks to take a deep drag, liking the feeling of how Nicotine addictively warms you up. You’re not a habitual smoker by any means. It’s just sometimes you smoke. And you really mean it when you say it’s relaxing. Your heart is beating fast but this time it’s not due to Park Jimin. It’s just the effect of Nicotine. So, you think it’s good. To find out Park Jimin isn’t the sole reason of your body going crazy. It goes crazy over Nicotine too. That’s good. You like the way crips air battle against your exhaustion and chase away the sleepiness. Like how Jungkook’s endless talking make you forget the man who’s sleeping upstairs like a baby. Stops you from just give in and go back. Kiss every inch of his face and curl into his warm body. This, in fact, is outstanding.

“Yeah? Are you good at spotting constellations?” He glances up at the sky. You follow his line of vision.

“No. Are you?”

“Absolutely not. Can’t understand how people do that─” He points at the sky. You snort at his claim. “It all looks the same. Like fairy dust.” Muses before averting his gaze to you and taking the cigarette away.

“Oh, I actually believed they are magical lights as a kid. Fairies and their fairy lights.” You look at him too. Waiting patiently for him to share the smoke back with you. Raise your hands to take it when Jungkook casually just holds it to your mouth. You glance at his face quickly. He urges you to go on. So, you do, wrapping your lips around the abusive cylinder.

“You don’t anymore?” He questions while you take another deep drag. You answer after blowing that smoke out. Click your tongue.

“I’ll believe they are fairy lights again when I get to see a shooting star.” You dreamily look above at the sky again. Jungkook interrupts you with a gasp. That leads him to ask you series of question about how come you’ve not seen one. Which takes a turn into asking about your life. You answer him vaguely as possible. Not wanting to blow your cover. Your answers consist mainly of rough yes and nos. And it goes on until you’ve got to light up a third cigarette. Jungkook lets you take the first drag from that.

“Are you happy with him?” Jungkook’s question cuts through the conversation suddenly. A complete turnover from what you’ve been talking about. He was asking you about your (Liya’s) family. You were telling him that you don’t get along with them well. Which you don’t know to be the ruth or not. You let the cigarette slips out of your mouth as you take him.

“With whom?”

“Jimin?” Says casually before his eyes goes wide with sudden realization. “Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask such kind of question from people now, should I? You don’t have to answer.” Jungkook shakes his head fast. Stammers. You’re not sure if he should or not. Simply you don’t know the answer. You shake your head to say it’s okay anyway. Say that you’re very happy. He nods in understanding.

“That’s good. I mean I’m sorry for asking that. Was just curious. You know that day... uh... the day we met, Tae said something about you two not being able to stand each other but it seems like you can’t get enough from each other. That’s why I asked. Sorry.” He apologizes again with an explanation. You can remember Taehyung saying such thing. It makes sense why Jungkook is curious.

“Well, maybe we can’t stand each other some days. But you know it’s just... relationships?” You feel odd to say that. Honestly, all these times, despite all these people believing you’re Liya, you’ve not played your part. You were just you. Even with Jimin. You were and are you. Not Kim Liya. Odd to speak on her behalf. An adorable bunny grin appears on Jungkook’s face.

“Maybe yeah…” Nods. “But you’re really weird you know? Jimin must be really fascinated by you all the time.” That grin never leaves his face as he says that.

“Yah! It’s rude to call someone weird.” You gasp.

“I mean in a good way though.”

“It’s still very rude and how come? How am I weird?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Well, first, you don’t know Midnight Symphony─” He starts to put his fingers down. “Second, you know songs that we’ve never heard about. Third, today you were so engrossed with a soda can back at the convenience store. I’ve never seen someone being so interested at a soda can. I mean what’s there to look so much? Fourth─”

“Geez, alright you have a long fuckin list. But listen. First─” You start putting down fingers as well. “It’s really possible I haven’t heard a song─”

“Yes, but not the fucking Midnight Symphony. Even newborns know that.”

“Shut up, it’s very possible and I wasn’t so engrossed with a soda can.” You absolutely were. That soda can was in stupid shape. And so was it had a label saying it’s in garlic flavor. That’s the weirdest shit you’ve found so far in this world. Can’t blame you for staring at it.

“You were Noona. You were looking at it like this,” Jungkook bends down slightly. “-and your eyes were like this,” Squints his eyes into narrow slits. “- your mouth was like this.” Opens his mouth. Looks like a freaking cartoon. You shriek in embarrassment.

“I. Was. Not. Jeon Jungkook.” Say sternly through your grin. Kick the snow underneath your foot so it hit Jungkook’s shoes. It’s his time to shriek. Jumping to his side to avoid it but failing. Comes up with a counterattack, nonetheless. You two are kicking snow at each other like it’s a real time war in a minute. Trying to compress your laughter and keep balance. You’re certain it would’ve escalated into a very serious snowball fight. But at the right moment you almost bend down to grab some handful of snow Jungkook gasps so loudly. In fear. Startle and nearly lost his balance making you hold from his jacket. When Jungkook’s sudden gasp jolts you, you spin around in alarm, only to stumble backward in shock, mirroring his startled reaction. Jungkook returning the favor by holding you steady. A yelp leaving your mouth.

There’s someone standing in front of you. In the middle of the front yard. Possible since there’s not a wall or a gate to protect the property after all. Still, isn’t any less scary or startling to see someone strange suddenly appearing behind you.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses as he drags you behind him immediately. Shielding your figure. It’s obvious that this person is not someone from your friend group. It’s a woman. A mop of grey hair on her head. Isn’t wearing a hat nor a scarf. Wearing a puffy jacket, however. Is standing very still like statue. The faint light coming from the cottage shows you that her face is covered with hundreds of wrinkles. You feel a strange shiver run through your spine. Mouth going dry and the hair on the nape of your neck is standing up. What a creepy sensation!

“Fuck I nearly had a heart attack. Who are you?” Jungkook mumbles the first part before asking the latter loudly. Still keeping you behind him. The woman doesn’t answer. See, fucking creepy. She looks too old to be a serial killer or a thief, but you’ll never know. You grab Jungkook’s jacket. Whoever this woman might be, you don’t think it’s wise to talk to her. You need to go inside. So, you tug from Jungkook’s jacket.

“Let’s go inside.” You whisper to him. Trying to walk away and drag him with you. He is a boulder though. Doesn’t even budge. Is looking at the intruder with his brows furrowed. “Jungkook.” You hiss. He takes a brief glance at you. Looks like is about to relent when the woman speaks. Halting both of your movements. Her voice calmed.

“You need to go.” She says. “Promptly.” Adds. You and Jungkook, halted in your movements, gape at her. Not understanding anything.

“What?” Jungkook is the one who questions. You wish he didn’t.

“The young lady,” Woman points at you. You stupidly point at yourself. “You need to return to where you belong, promptly. Or else, the people you know, the loved ones of you will forget about your memories. The same thing happens to Kim Liya. You shouldn’t break the order of things child.” She keeps going.

And you freeze.

You think you understand what she says. Blood drains out of your face. You might’ve turned into porcelain pale.

She knows. Whoever she is, she knows!

You almost step away from Jungkook. But halt again when she softly speaks your name. Your real name. She says it fondly.

“This is a huge mistake my child. You shouldn’t be here. Make haste and go back to where you belong.” She calmly states. Nearly turns around like she is about to leave. Your brain goes into high alert. Panick mode. She knows and she just can’t leave like that. Even though you understand her words, they don’t make sense. What does she mean by losing memories? How does she know in the first place? Who is she?

You practically run to her. “Wait!” You shout. She stops and turns around. Face still very calm. Stand still like a statue. “Yes?” Asks.

“Who are you?” You question. There’s million things you want to know but that’s the one that leaves your mouth. 

“No one very important, young child. Make haste and go back.” Turns around again.

“No wait, you obviously know who I am. You know I’m from a different world. You know I’m not Liya. And… and... that must mean something.” You blurt out. She just sighs but says nothing. So, you continue. “You are saying that I shouldn’t be here and should go back but you know I’ll be here the moment I sleep right?”

“Yes, I do know that.” Finally answers.

“Then what’s the point of asking me to go back. This is not under my control anyway. Tell me what’s happening here. I... We’ve been looking for answers for such a long time. A way to stop this. You do know how to stop this don’t you?” Your voice is shaky from excitement and something that you can’t quite explain.

“Listen dear human, this is not my place to meddle with human affairs. I shouldn’t be here either, just like you. I’m just here to warn you that spending more time in one world results in your permanent disappearance from the other.”

“Wha─”

“Each and every person in these countless universes have their own place. Only one place. When you are not there to fill that space, it vanishes. You can’t return back to your space. It’s already gone. You’ll no longer be a part of your own universe, but a part of this. Filling up the vacant space of Kim Liya. And as long as you are here, she can’t return… and her loved ones will forget of her memories as well. You’ll be the only one they remember. Thus, my dear child you need to go back before things get complicated.” She smiles at you fondly. You’re on the hand, are feeling like losing your balance. Legs buckling.

“Where is she? Liya?” You force yourself to keep interrogate. Funny, how you trust this woman.

“Nowhere.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why she isn’t here when I am?”

“You are not paying attention now, are you? There’s only one space. You can’t share that space. This is her space…. And you are occupying it. That’s why she isn’t here. Now, I have already said so many things I shouldn’t and especially, in front of a witness. What should we do? Wipe this young gentleman’s memory off.” The woman turns to Jungkook. God, you really forgot he is here. He looks bewildered. Eyes still wide and mouth open. Confused. Takes an uncertain step back when the attention falls on him.

“Wh- what’s really happening here?” Looks between you and the old woman. Gulps harshly. Him witnessing what’s happening here isn’t good. It doesn't mean you want his memory erased, however. Hell, you don’t even know what that even means.

“No. What? You can’t do that.” You ignore Jungkook completely to answer the woman. She gives you an amused look. “Are you sure?” Asks. “Of course, you can’t wipe someone’s memory off like that and─” You don’t get to finish what you want to say when she shrugs and turns around again. No. She still hasn’t told you half of the stuff you want to know.

“Wait, wait please.” You almost grab from her hand.

“You already know enough children. Do the right thing.” Takes another step.

“At least tell me how to stop this.” You won’t let this opportunity slip like that. She sighs heavily again. Doesn’t turn around to look at you. A beat of silence passes before she speaks again.

“Just do the exact opposite of what you did that day.” Takes another step away. You don’t stop her this time. Are too confused to do so. What day? The day you came here. She stops again. “Since I already told you so many things, here’s another one- you only have one week. And it’s quite okay to believe in miracles sometimes.” With that, in front of your very bare eyes, and with Jungkook to witness, she vanishes. Just like that. In a snap. Not a single sign of her existence is left there. Only you and Jungkook with your mouth hanging open. You suck in a sharp breath. Not believing what you just saw.

How? How did she?

“Fucking hell, what the hell is happening? Noona?” Jungkook breaks the stupor you two are in. Making your head whip toward him. He is still wearing a same kind of bewildered expression. “Noona? Do you know her? Did she ─ did she fucking disappeared? What’s about, fuck- did she tell something about another world? Wait? Are you a fucking alien?” He takes a step toward you. His quite voice raising an octave with every question.

Shit! This is a mess. You don’t know how to explain this. You want to, however. But not now. Not if what she said was true. The more you spend your time here you’re keep fucking things up. You need to find Jimin, tell him what just happened. You need to leave.

“Later. I’ll explain later. I need to go.” You mutter as you start toward the door. You’ll definitely explain. She said you have a week.

Fuck you only have a week!

…………………………………

It was a quick departure. In the middle of the night. Nobody except Jungkook knew you’d left. You gave him a quick hug and a promise of an explanation. And a request to let others know that something came up. He said yes. You and Jimin drove off at the very moment.

When you first woke him up, Jimin was confused. Almost kissed you, purring. Asked why you haven’t woken him up, before you stopped him. He looked taken aback. When you hurriedly but clearly explained to him what happened, he became difficult like always. So many questions and doubts. Yet eventually he had to believe you. Especially, when you pointed out that Jungkook witnessed them all. Jimin wasn’t happy. He was irate in fact. Was like that when you left the cottage and is still like that. You haven’t talked much since then. You don’t like the uncomfortable silence though. Make you feel even more awful. About everything that happened. Your brain is swirling around the guilt and confusion. That paired up with the realization that everything indeed came to an end, makes your heart ache. Except for your illicit affair of couple days, Jimin and you were close. More than close. It’s just like you knew how it would be. You knew this would become a memory to cry over one day. Only that it came a little faster than you expected. You don’t want to wallow in this feeling.

Jimin is completely focusing on the road. The roads are not in the best condition to drive fast. No matter how much in a hurry you are. He is restless. Looks remorseful. You understand him completely. He was having the time of his life with you while his girlfriend’s entire existence almost disappeared.

Still, it’s strange to be like this around him after all. You need to talk to him. It’s out of control. Need some kind of comfort. His comfort to be precise.

“She said we have a week.” You blurt that out before you can think. Jimin snaps his head at you. He knew it already but looks at you like he just hears it. Opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t. Blows a breath out. Licks his lips and nods. And is looking away again. It makes you irritated. You want him to say that he is equally sad as you.

“Is that it? You have nothing to say?” You ask again.

“What do you want me to say?” He doesn’t even look at you as he asks. Knuckles turning white at how hard he is gripping the steering wheel.

You’re disappointed that he is fine with you leaving. Not that you can question it though. So, you change the subject. But apparently into the wrong path.

“I want to come clean before I leave.” You mumble. Eyes expectantly watching him when he looks at you with knitted brows.

“What?”

“You know, I want your friends to know who I am before I leave.”

He actually laughs at that. Humorless. Gets you annoyed.

“You’re fucking joking, right?” Looks at you like you’re the funniest thing in every universe.

“No, I am not Park. I’m freaking serio─”

“Are you fucking crazy Lil?” His tone and the way he nearly yells makes you snap. Ache in your heart turning into sadness. So, you yell back. Ask him what’s his problem is.

“Why the hell do you want to tell them?” He replies. Or yells again.

“And why the hell not? Because I kind of know them.”

“Stop fucking bullshitting Lil. They don’t know you at all. They think you’re fucking Liya.”

“That’s exactly why I need to tell them that I am not.”

You and he are really shouting through the top of your lungs now. This isn’t what you wanted when you wanted to talk. Things has taken a complete turn. You don’t even know why you’re fighting. Jimin hits the brake furiously. Makes you jolt forward. He has stopped the car in the middle of the road. Good thing that there’s no other vehicles on the road.

“And then what Lil? What happens after that? You want them to see me as a fucking cheater? Is that what you want? You’ll fucking leave and I’ll be the one left to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and relationship.”  He is burning you down with his glare. You shut your mouth instantly. Oh, you haven’t thought about it that way at all. You don’t know why you want to come clean. What’s the purpose? It’s just you want to say something and that’s what came to your mind. And then his dismissive answers made you irritated. Does he not care at all? You’ll be leaving in a week.

“Right? That’s what I thought.” Jimin says again when you don’t reply. Sighs. “So, is this like you want some kind of revenge?” Questions again. Your eyes go wide instantly, jaw dropping to the floor at the same time your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. What is he talking about?

“Why the fuck would I want a revenge?”

“No right? Then what the hell is this? Why are you being difficult? Why can’t you just stick to the plan and leave like you came? Everything resolved, you get your life back and I get mine. Just a normal life huh? Isn’t that what you wanted?” He points it out. What he is saying is the absolute truth. That was your plan. Then why do you feel your heart shatter. He just asked you to leave quietly. Like you don’t matter. And that’s the case after all. You don’t matter. Are here by mistake. You were just a body, a temporary stand-in. A warm presence in the absence of his real love. You’re nothing. You feel your throat constricts. This is not good that you’re on the verge of crying.  You don’t want to cry at all, but his next words hit like final wave to break your dam.

“Just don’t ruin my life before you leave Lil. I did nothing wrong to you. You agreed and it was for a day. One day. You’ve no reason to do so. Just don’t make this difficult.” Says before accelerating the car again. You say nothing, too afraid to speak. Know you’ll definitely cry. Instead, look away through the window, allowing your thoughts to consume you completely. Biting on your lower lip to swallow back the sob rising in your throat.

Ruin his life?

You’ve no right to feel so hurt. Like he said you knew it was for a day. You shouldn’t expect anything from Park Jimin. This is his and Liya’s life. Their world and universe. You’re just a stranger. It’s so unfair to expect that Jimin would care about you. To say the least, you’re embarrassed to realize that you indeed expect him to grieve your departure. Ridiculous. Shameless. It was indeed a day in paradise. A dream. And the thing about dream? They always come to an end when you wake up. This is the end of your dream. Well, you’ll find a way to deal with reality somehow. You know how to manage through heartbreaks. If Jimin wants you to leave like that, you will. He can go fuck himself. If he doesn’t care, neither will you. You will show him your middle finger when you say goodbye.

Yes, just Goodbye. No, ‘I’ll miss you’. No. Nothing else. Just Goodbye.  

GOOD FUCKING BYE!

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal

[bloopdydooooo]

My fella my guy my lad and guy CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT HOW UNIT FUCKIN DRUGGED AND TIED UP TWELVE IN DARK WATER / DEATH IN HEAVEN?

YES‼️

but in the morning!! when i am more alive.

[continuousmeowing]

having a bit of a girlfailure night

[bee-the-whovian]

if I had a nickel for every game where my only contribution was my character being called at an ungodly time of morning to be asked a question she didn't have an answer to which both players in question knew she didn't know but had to ask because it would make sense for her to know it... I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's.... it sure happened.

[bukuoshin]

I am fucking NOT going to my dentist today

[fxrina]

tag dump

[mundanemiseries]

updated tags (pt 8/?)

[roosterr]

if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333

the 141 falls asleep on you

wc: 2.1k

hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)

price

✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.

✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.

✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.

✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.

✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.

✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.

✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.

✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.

✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.

✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.

✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.

✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.

✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"

✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.

✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.

gaz

✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.

✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.

✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"

✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."

✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.

✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."

✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.

✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.

✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.

✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.

✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.

✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.

✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."

soap

✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.

✹ but it hadn't happened like that  of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.

✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.

✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.

✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.

✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.

✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.

✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"

✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"

✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.

✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.

✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.

✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.

✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.

✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.

✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"

ghost

✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.

✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.

✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.

✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.

✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.

✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.

✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.

✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.

✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.

✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.

✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.

✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.

✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

NEXT ->

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[literaila]

keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

last part | next part

*

year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter." 

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head. 

"he didn't give you anything to sign?" 

"not recently." 

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it." 

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?" 

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?" 

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that." 

"well, can you help me look for it?" 

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it. 

you snort. 

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there. 

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off. 

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek. 

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do. 

but it's weird. 

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther. 

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back. 

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should. 

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you. 

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place. 

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine. 

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really. 

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin." 

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him. 

"i didn't tell you about that?" 

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--" 

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good." 

"there's no way she's good." 

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital." 

"what?" 

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that. 

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever. 

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles. 

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it. 

so, yeah. things are fine. 

*

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in. 

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job." 

"again?" 

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease. 

it falls flat. 

"did he get in trouble?" 

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably." 

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days. 

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?" 

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..." 

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?" 

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home." 

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression. 

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?" 

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?" 

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. 

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long. 

just, you know, forever. 

*

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you. 

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude. 

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin. 

seriously, why is it so cold in this house? 

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired." 

"he said that two years ago." 

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to. 

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?" 

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?" 

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..." 

"meeting?" 

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party." 

"on friday?" 

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean. 

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?" 

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it." 

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume. 

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel. 

you just know it. 

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?" 

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week? 

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there? 

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night." 

"megumi hates guy's nights." 

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there. 

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you. 

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse. 

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--" 

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you. 

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure." 

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining." 

"okay." 

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything. 

and it's not okay. 

*

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step. 

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse. 

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?" 

"we were--" 

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride. 

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?" 

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long." 

"that's great." 

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition." 

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment. 

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that. 

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?" 

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?" 

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick." 

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension. 

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry. 

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it. 

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.” 

“i knew you’d say no.” 

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“ 

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger. 

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team? 

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.” 

“i don’t care!” 

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.” 

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.” 

“secrets? i’m not—“ 

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.” 

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.” 

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.” 

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.” 

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi. 

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu. 

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.” 

“like i said, he’s fine.” 

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?” 

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“ 

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.” 

“i would never—“ 

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.” 

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up. 

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?” 

“well, no, but—“ 

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.” 

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him. 

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you. 

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?” 

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“ 

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“ 

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!” 

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care. 

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?” 

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.” 

“you think i don’t know that?” 

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.” 

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched. 

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.” 

“that’s not what i said.” 

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“ 

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“ 

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!” 

“what?” 

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?” 

what about me? you don't say. 

“i didn’t bring him for me—“ 

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“ 

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?” 

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.” 

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.” 

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.” 

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it. 

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?” 

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.” 

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself. 

clearly, you've struck a nerve. 

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.” 

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you. 

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.” 

he shakes his head at you. 

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?” 

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“ 

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue. 

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter— 

fine. you will too. 

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.” 

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?” 

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else. 

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“ 

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you. 

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks. 

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“ 

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?” 

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“ 

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.” 

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.” 

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care. 

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--" 

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“ 

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.” 

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue. 

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started. 

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air. 

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization. 

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going. 

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care. 

but after a minute, he doesn't return. 

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru. 

pretty sure. 

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away. 

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened. 

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about. 

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back. 

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again? 

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy. 

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back? 

is he going to come back? 

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear. 

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds. 

but it feels like an hour. 

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you. 

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now. 

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids. 

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water. 

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache. 

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart. 

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have. 

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this. 

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything? 

how could you make another mistake? 

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life. 

"where did gojo go?" 

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk." 

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks. 

"are you okay?" megumi follows. 

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break." 

"from us?" 

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good." 

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats. 

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--" 

"when is he going to be back?" 

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything. 

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready." 

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried. 

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?" 

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay. 

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home-- 

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul-- 

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist. 

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could. 

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard. 

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together. 

you can't cry, but you really want to. 

*

satoru's entire body feels different. 

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences. 

he misses you. 

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe. 

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating. 

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word. 

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real. 

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough. 

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you. 

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say. 

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough. 

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be. 

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud. 

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again. 

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along. 

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you. 

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it? 

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it. 

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition. 

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately. 

and he sees you, lying in bed. 

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open. 

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone. 

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him. 

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore. 

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry. 

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen. 

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle. 

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. 

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated. 

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this? 

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest? 

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave." 

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more. 

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there. 

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive. 

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul. 

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't." 

"i can't lose you too." 

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry." 

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't." 

"you don't have to." 

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave." 

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever? 

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time. 

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it. 

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers. 

and, just for tonight, it's enough. 

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[rainyorca]

You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal. 

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that. 

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night. 

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.” 

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.” 

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs. 

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth. 

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again. 

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan. 

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips. 

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.” 

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you. 

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?” 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.  

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.  

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia takes you on holiday

The first time Alba and Alexia went on holiday with each other was when Alexia turned eighteen.

Suddenly, she had independence and some adult money to blow on frivolous things so she took Alba to Ibiza with her.

You got left at home because you were still very little and going to the beach and tanning was not something you enjoyed.

Instead, with both of your sisters in Ibiza, Mama took you to the beach near the house and you did fun things like building a sandcastle and eating your weight in ice cream.

Mama made a weekend of it and you were certain you had a much more fun time than Alba and Alexia did. You couldn't imagine laying in the sun and sleeping the day away with fruity drinks could be much fun or, at least when you were younger you couldn't imagine it being fun.

Now though, as a teenager that was also an athlete, you enjoyed you sleep. Naps were an important part of your routine. You came home from school and napped before getting up to go to your training. Then you would come home and nap until dinner.

It was good routine. You liked your routine.

You didn't like having it interrupted at three in the morning by Alba shaking you awake.

You blindly bat a hand at her. "Go away." You roll over onto your front and bury your head in the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"You'd already said that," She says," Come on, get up."

"No."

"If you don't get up now then Alexia will be up with a bucket of water. Then you'll have to get up and change your sheets. Come on, up!"

You groan loudly, muffled by your pillow before forcing yourself up.

The only reason you agreed to going on Alexia and Alba's sister holiday was because you thought you could relax. But, with Alexia in charge, you should have known that would never be the case.

She'd booked the flight for six forty-five leading to this three in the morning wake-up call so you dragged yourself out of your body and changed into some plane comfortable clothing.

It was barely an hour's flight from Barcelona to Mallorca so you've no idea why Alexia insisted on the stupidly early flight.

Either way, you drag your suitcase down the stairs and flip your hood up in an attempt to show your protest at the early morning wake-up call.

Alexia pulls it straight back down.

You flip it up again.

She pulls it down again.

You reach to put it up. Alexia's stern look stops you.

You kick her in the shin.

"You kick like a baby," She says, sticking her tongue out.

"I'm going to bite you."

"Ah," Alba says wistfully, throwing her arms around each of you," Just like old times!"

Alexia grins and ruffles your hair. You pretend to be annoyed.

You manage to have a small nap on her shoulder on the flight over and then get rudely awakened by her shaking you.

The villa is nice though and it's even nicer when you remember Alexia is paying for absolutely everything.

The house has a pool and a shady spot for naps and a big inflatable sword that you're going to use to smack Alba when she annoys you. It's near the beach and is only a ten-minute walk or so into town.

All in all, you're actually quite happy to be on this trip with your older sisters, even though Alba shoves past you to claim the room you wanted as her own.

The sun is nice and hot and you close your eyes for your midday nap as Alba floats around in the pool and Alexia paces around on the phone to her girlfriend.

It's nice and peaceful and sleep comes easy to you.

You don't know how long you've been sleeping by the time Alexia wakes you up by squirting cold sun cream onto your back.

You shriek, flinching away but her strong hands follow you and you can feel her rubbing it in.

"Ale," You whine," I don't need any."

"You do," She insists, working it more furiously into your skin," I got the strongest I can find."

"But then I won't tan!"

"Good. Tanning can cause skin cancer."

"You tan!"

"I don't have delicate baby skin," Alexia says and you turn your head back to look at her in disbelief," Skin cancer is scared of me."

From the sunbed next to you, Alba scoffs. Her face is covered in sun cream that hasn't been rubbed in yet. Clearly, she was Alexia's first victim.

"I don't have delicate baby skin!" You insist.

"Yes, you do." Alexia bats your arms away. "Mama made me promise to make sure you two wore your sun cream which means no tanning oil and no fighting me on it! I'm the oldest. I'm in charge!"

"You can't be in charge of me," Alba says," I'm an adult."

Alexia thinks for a moment before nodding. She prods you in the pack. "You're a baby so I'm in charge of you."

You groan. "This is so unfair!"

"Life's unfair," Alexia says impassively," Now, stay still. I might have missed a spot."

You're pretty sure she dumped the whole bottle on you.

Alexia's a hoverer. She always has been and she always will be.

Her arm is slung around your shoulders as you make your way down the street to find some food. She's insisted on getting you a big floppy hat to protect your face even though she's completely drowned it in sun cream.

"I'm kind of craving seafood," Alba says," Seafood and pasta."

You nod. "I want pasta too."

Alexia nods along. "Pasta sounds good."

"I want dessert as well," You continue.

"That's such a good idea!" Alba agrees quickly," I could kill for some warm cookie dough right now."

You nearly drool at the thought. "With whipped cream."

"And caramel sauce!"

Alba grabs your hand, pulling you out of the security of Alexia's arm and starts sprinting down the street, to where all the restaurants have lined up their menus for the night.

You allow yourself to be dragged, easily keeping pace with her.

You turn to look behind you. "Ale, come on!"

Alexia catches up in record time, grabbing your other hand.

"Seafood, pasta and cookie dough," She laughs," I want dough balls too."

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[moody-alcoholic]

Making them feel good

Hello to my American readers cos it's 3:30 here and I'm tired.

MDNI +18 content

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI + 18 content. Smut, multiple blowjobs, oral (M receiving x2), kissing & licking, cum swallowing, little bit of Mdom, tiny bit of hurt/comfort. Look they're expressing their feelings what can I say.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

You feel your body moved, there are more then two hands now. Your head is on Simon’s lap the blanket still wrapped round your body. You force yourself to keep my eyes closed not wanting to cause a bother. 

“You let me sleep too long” You hear Johnny say. 

“You needed it.” Simon replies. 

“What about you?” Johnny says sighing. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Simon says his hand falling on your shoulder. You feel Johnny move closer to Simon leaning over to kiss him, you hear their lips smacking together. 

“I always worry about you.” You hear Johnny say quietly. 

“I know.” Simon says as they pull apart. You feel like you’ve just invaded their privacy, maybe you should have moved to make them know you’re still there, or something. Simon’s hand is rubbing your shoulder as you feel Johnny move off the sofa. 

“Want anything to eat?” You hear Johnny ask from a distance he must be in the kitchen. 

“What you making?” Simon asks.

“We don’t have anything in.” Johnny says, you hear the sound of a fridge door close. “What time is it?” 

“7,” Simon says. 

“Lets order in, what do you think she’ll like?” Johnny asks you can hear him making his way back to the couch. 

“Let’s order from that Mexican place that does the super stuffed burritos.” Simon says. You hear Johnny tapping on his phone. 

“40 minutes?” He asks.,

“Yeah that’s good.” Simon says. You try to convince yourself you’ll let them know you’ve been a wake but you can’t help yourself keeping your body still and your breathing steady, you doze off again. 

The doorbell jolts you awake, for a second you think you’re in a hospital and it’s a respiratory alarm going off. When you see the darkness outside you remember where you are.

“You okay?” Simon asks his hand on the small of your back. You nod letting yourself wake up properly the smell of fresh cooked food filling your nose. 

“We got some food if you’re hungry?” Johnny asks as he puts the delivery bags on the table. Your body’s stiff as you sit up straight the blanket falls to the floor. 

“I need to pee.” You say pulling yourself to your feet. Your body still feels sleepy as you make your way to the bathroom. You lock the door making your way to the toilet. ‘You should always pee after sex to decrease the risk of UTI’s’ your nurse brain tells you, bit late for that. You look in the mirror as you wash your hands. The bags under your eyes are getting heavier, you need to get a good nights sleep. When you leave the room you see Simon and Johnny on the couch, Johnny with his arm around Simon’s shoulders munching on a wrap. You make your way back over to the living room, feeling guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation earlier. 

“There’s chicken or pork which one do you want?” Johnny asks taking food out the bag. 

“Chicken sounds good.” You say and he hands you the wrap you sit in the recliner next to the sofa pulling your knees to your chest. The news is playing, you pretend to pay attention to it as you pull the foil off the wrap taking a bite. It tastes good, salty and oily exactly what you need after today. Simon and Johnny talk about whats happening on the news, you’re half listening to it as you eat the burrito.  

“Looks like it’s all kicking off.” Johnny says. Simon replies with a grunt. All of a sudden the Burrito tastes stale in your mouth. You put it down on the coffee table. The pit of guilt is not going away. You try to rack your brain to why you’re feeling like this. All you can think about is Simon. Johnny got to fuck you, Simon didn’t get anything, Johnny said he was rough Simon didn’t seem rough. 

“Simon,” You say as you turn to look at him, Johnny is laid up against his chest. His eyes fall on you as you slip out the chair crawling on your knees toward him. “I want to make you feel good.” You say as your hands find his knees.

“Oh yeah? How you plan on doing that?” He asks playfully, his legs parting so you can run your hands down his thighs. 

“Let me suck your dick?” You ask. He chuckles and you look at Johnny who winks at you stroking Simon’s chest. Simon’s hand reaches down into his sweatpants pulling his cock out. You were right he’s bigger then Johnny, of course he is, and he’s not even fully hard yet. 

“Think you can take it?” He asks, his voice low as he strokes himself in front of you. You don’t care if you can or not now it’s a challenge. You look up at him nodding, Johnny is smiling as he nuzzles his face into Simon’s neck. Your hands reach out as you move your body between his legs making sure you’re comfortable on you knees and take his cock in your hands. You rub up and down using your thumb to push into the underside. Simon’s head tilts back as Johnny licks his neck. You take a breath in pulling his foreskin back so you can wet his tip with your tongue. 

“Fuck-” he moans his free hand resting on the top of your head. You just go for it locking your mouth round and forcing yourself to take the whole thing. You hold your breath letting him fill your mouth up all the way down to the back of your throat. You gag your mouth filling with saliva, Simon’s fingers run through your hair. Your head bobs up and down as you make sure to take every inch of him your tongue pressing into the underside of his cock as it grows bigger in your mouth. 

“Like the way she makes you feel?” You hear Johnny ask between kisses. Simon just murmurs in response, you could never imagine him letting himself go like this especially when he’s walking around with that skull mask on, the one that sends shivers up your spine when you see it. Right now he’s at your mercy, his body twitching with each stroke of your mouth, each kiss from Johnny. Simon grips your hair helping your head move up and down, he’s rough just like Johnny said making you take him all the way to the hilt as tears form in your eyes. You don’t mind though this is your time to make him feel good. You move faster pressing harder with your tongue, Johnny’s moaning sweet things into Simon's ear making your body crave touch too. You move one of your hands into your underwear rubbing your clit, you don’t care if you get off but it feels good and it makes you more eager to please. Simon’s hand moves from your hair to your face, gently tapping your cheeks. 

“Hey, look up at me love.” He says, you force your eyes open without stopping your pace. Johnny’s mouth is burred in Simon's neck, his hand under his shirt rubbing his chest. “I want you to look me in the eyes when I fill your mouth up.” 

Holy shit the tingles travelling through your body are almost electric. You keep your eyes on him letting him thrust in and out of your mouth, your fingers circling your clit as you keep in time with his thrusts. He’s moaning as he gets closer to the edge, you don’t take your eyes off him. He pushes deep into your mouth and you push your head as deep as you can as he cums, his hot seed fills you up as his cock throbs in your mouth. You wait until you feel him relax before pulling your head back swallowing his cum.

Johnny is still stroking Simon’s chest whispering in his ear just quiet enough so you can’t hear. You don’t care though you made him feel good. You feel the pit go away in your stomach as you move your body from between his legs taking your hand out your underwear. You watch as Johnny kisses Simon his hand stroking his cheek. 

“Johnny you have to let her do that to you.” Simon says as he pulls away, his hand gently touching himself. You look up at Johnny with needy eyes, the prospect of making him feel good too has got you all worked up again. Johnny seems to pause for a second looking between you and Simon. 

“I don’t mind.” You say trying not to sound greedy. Johnny smiles pulling away from Simon spreading his legs so you can move between him. He’s already hard as he pulls his cock out. You look up at Simon who’s eyes have glazed over and he moves closer to Johnny. 

“You sure you’re alright lass?” Johnny asks as you take him in your hands. You nod, your tongue licking the bead of precum off his tip. He’s not as big as Simon, not that you’re complaining you’re going to make him feel good just the same. You lock your mouth around him taking his cock all the way to the hilt. His moans are just as good as Simon, the ache between your legs intensifies as you enjoy each inch of him filling your mouth. 

“Shite, Si, she’s almost as good as you.” Johnny says. You don’t have time to processes what Johnny is saying you just move faster looking up at him as his eyes roll back in his head. Simon pulls Johnny’s chin to look at him their lips locking together. Johnny twitches in your mouth causing you to close your eyes and moan on him. He likes that and you  work faster hearing him pant trying to keep his cool composure as he gets closer to the edge. Simon's voice reverberating off Johnny as he tells him how good he’s being. It doesn’t take long before he’s coming too, you take him deep just like you did with Simon making sure you feel every spasm and throb until he’s twitching from over stimulation.

You pull away swallowing your second load of the night watching as Johnny sucks in deep breaths Simon stroking his face. You smile at them getting up picking your glass up from the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. You run the tap for a few seconds then fill the glass up drinking it down then leaving the glass in the sink. When you walk back to the living room you see Simon’s head on Johnny chest. You decide not to interrupt them heading to the bedroom and crawling into bed. You close your eyes exhausted but satisfied, you can still taste their cum in your mouth as you drift off to sleep.        

—————————— 

You wake with your arm spread on Johnny’s chest, light is coming in through the bedroom window. Simon is behind you snoring softly, you don’t even remember them coming to bed. You slowly and quietly slip out from between them leaving the door ajar and heading into the kitchen. You’re craving a coffee and after searching through the cupboards for a while you find some and boil the kettle. Your eyes keep flicking to the bedroom door hoping you’re not waking them up. You decide to take the coffee out to the balcony grabbing the throw from the couch on your way out.

The sounds of busy central London fill your ears as you breathe in the frigid air. You make your way to the chair pulling the blanket round you and watching the activity on the Thames. The sun is still low in the sky covering everything in a burnt orange hue. You relax back in the chair sipping your coffee. You think back to yesterday and how natural everything felt. Johnny and Simon being so accommodating, you’ve never felt anything like this before, you’ve never had boyfriends or one night stands treat you anything like the way Johnny and Simon seem to fawn over you. The coffee burns your tongue as you swallow it down.

There was something different with Johnny and Simon, you knew this time it was going to be different. Not just because it was a three way relationship but the fact that it felt like a relationship and not just a fling or a few month fling. Holy shit you were actually falling for them, falling for them both. There was no Johnny without Simon and there was no Simon without Johnny. You smile as you sip the coffee watching the sun rise over the London skyline. 

“You okay?” Johnny makes you jump as he sticks his head out the door, your free hand flies to your chest. 

“Jesus, sneak up like that on everyone?” You ask as he walks out the door. 

“You think I’m quiet you should hear Simon.” He says smiling. “Or I guess you don’t hear him.”

 You smile at him get up drinking the rest of your cup as you walk towards him. He moves aside to let you in as you drop the throw on the couch heading to the kitchen. Johnny follows you the whole time as soon as you’ve put the cup in the sink his arms are around you. You turn to look at him as he pulls you closer to him. His lips moving to yours, you sink into his embrace as he kisses you moving his tongue round your mouth. 

“Yesterday was amazing.” He says as he pulls away your arms locking round his neck.

“Oh yeah?” You say in a desperate attempt at praise. Johnny just smiles at you his lips moving back to yours, it’s slow and sensual the type of kiss that makes your knees shake, your body warms up as he presses you against the sink. 

“Johnny,” You say breaking away from the kiss. “Johnny, I think I’m falling in love with you, you and Simon.” You wait for the laugh, or maybe he’ll be angry that you say you love his husband. You hold your breath waiting for the inevitable let down of being the third wheel. Instead his hand cups your cheek pulling your face up to his. 

“You know how long we’ve been waiting for that.” He says, you look confused but he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“This isn’t a fling, it’s not about the sex, its about a relationship.” Johnny says as he strokes your cheek his forehead on yours. You feel a wave of emotions come over you, suddenly you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. Johnny seems to pick up on your change in body language his hands finds your waist and he moves you back to the bedroom.

“I don’t want to wake Simon.” You whisper as he pushes you through the door. 

“Just trust me.” He whispers as he guides you to the bed you get in with your back to Simon, Johnny laying next to you. He reaches over you grabbing Simon’s hand pulling it over you and onto him. 

“See this, feel him behind you, this is real and this is want we want, it’s not a fling.” You nod listening to his words. You feel Simon stir behind you as his hand grips Johnny’s side. Simon nestles his head in your neck kissing you. Your body is frozen hoping he’ll go back to sleep and get some rest.  

“Relax baby,” you hear Simon say sleepily, your eyes are still locked on Johnny as he strokes you cheek. You let your body relax. 

“We love you too.” Johnny says quietly kissing your forehead. 

It’s not just a fling, it’s a relationship. 

Next part

[mochinomnoms]

I like to think that Jade is clueless about surface romance, so imagine Jade watching Romcons to get a glimpse of how humans courtship each other, and now he's daydreaming about experiencing all of the Romcon cliches with Yuu.

I'm talking about: Kissing in the rain, "There's only one bed" or "we are all snowed up in a tiny cabin", waking up in the morning tangled together, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear and so on.

Asf#£^&@#%Asda I've watched too many Romcons.

Realistically, Jade would do enough research to know that all those romcom clichés are just that, clichés or tropes only for entertainment and rarely something that occurs in real life. He probably thinks they're a little ridiculous even, do humans really think these things are romantic? They're so...dumb!

BUT I like to think there's another part of him that sorta realizes the appeal once he's in love. Suddenly, the idea of 'there's only one bed' isn't so dumb and easily fixed when it's with you! Falling asleep at opposite ends of the bed, only to awake tangled in each other's arms? Oh! What bliss!

A fake dating? Not so funny now, he can't imagine the agony of pretending that his feelings are fake! Chasing after you in the rain just to steal a kiss? Well, it's no dazzling, bioluminescent cave under the sea, but it works.

These romcoms seem quite popular with humans, maybe you like them too? Perhaps he should act out some scenarios with you, just for fun. Yes, nothing more, no deeper reasoning…just experimentation…he's just curious is all!

[juhatake]

4am draft. 4am Chan.

The movement of the mattress wakes me up. I wasn't really having a deep sleep, so any movement would have woken me up anyway. I tilt my head a little to see his bare back, Chan always had the habit of sleeping only in boxers, since he gets too hot at night.

I look at his back and sigh. I raise my hand and run the tips of my fingers over his spine in a soft, almost imperceptible caress. I can see how the hairs stand up on his spine, maybe my hands are too cold or maybe it's the impulsive touch that surprised him even when he's asleep.

I continue my caresses all over his back, drawing patterns that lead nowhere. At one point his muscles tense and he rolls over, facing the ceiling. His eyes are closed but by the rhythm of his breathing I know he's awake. "Can't you sleep?" he whispers in the middle of the darkness, his voice hoarse and worn. "I'm not sleepy." I answer. He smiles still without opening his eyes. He puts his arm over my waist to pull me to his body. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and begins to kiss that sensitive area.

In a quick but gentle movement he changes our positions. Chan is on top of me. His arms on either side of my head while he leans his weight on his elbows so as not to crush me. Finally opens his eyes and looks at me. His sleepy gaze, his heavy eyelashes and his vague smile.

Chan goes down and kisses my eyelids, my cheekbones and my cheeks, a mischievous smile crosses his features when he looks at my lips. "I am sleepy. If I kiss you the way you like, will you sleep a few more hours?" he tries to propose a deal, which I pretend to think about although the answer is very clear. "Yes."

His full and soft lips continue like a butterfly kissing my face, from my forehead to my chin. He stops a few millimeters from my lips. Tempting me as he always enjoys doing. After torturing me for a few seconds, finally kisses me. Soft and tender, as if he's afraid of breaking me. His tongue caresses my lower lip, asking permission to enter. As soon as my mouth is slightly open, he smiles, letting his expert tongue slide in. I sigh against his mouth. I'm on cloud nine.

Chan brushes our noses and looks me in the eyes again. "As much as I'd love to continue, we should sleep," whispers before lightly nibbling on my lower lip.

He curls up against me again, his body almost on top of mine, leaving space only so I can breathe. But I like it that way. And I'll always like it.

₊˚⊹ ⁀➴ ᰔ‧₊˚⊹

A little reminder that I'm not a native English speaker, any kind of comment, correction or note is welcome if it's with respect and understanding<3

with love, juliette ☆